Easter was good. I got a pillow to cuddle because Jared was tired of me saying "My back hurts. Rub my back. Now." Also, I got stretch mark cream for my stretch marks, but before you go ahead and yell at Jared for buying his girlfriend stretch mark cream, I asked for it. I am happy.
Also, my parents sent me an Easter basket, which was the highlight of my week. I will never be too old for Easter baskets. I will steal them from my child later on, if I have to. I am already starting to live vicariously through my child, unborn though he may be. He has received so much more fan mail and presents than I have in a LONG long time. It's probably good practice for Christmas, when I will no longer be the baby and therefore my quality of gifts will decline. Do I sound bitter? I might be. I like presents, but hopefully I can be hormonally tricked into believing the whole "having a child is its own present" schpeel.
On Easter day, Jared & I went to Christa's for super brunch fun time. I made a quiche, cinnamon rolls, & breakfast meat. The quiche was good, but I sorta wanted it ot have more colour. Jared disagrees, as he dislikes quiche (unknown to me before Sunday.) The cinnamon rolls were the highlight, considering I had to use yeast and I hand kneaded them and they STILL turned out. Yum. On the way back to my room, Jared & I spotted a MOURNING CLOAK BUTTERFLY. I'd known they are supposed to live around here, but having never seen one I didn't really believe it. And then, we saw it, and we were amazed. Jared wanted to go catch it for my collection but I couldn't have brought myself to kill it. It is the first butterfly I've seen of the year, and being hte first of its kind for me to see.. I thought it was too special.
How pretty is that?
Today I was disappointed to realize that the only stations Jared & I can peacefully agree on are oldies stations. In fact, on Saturday we were driving somewhere and I was pissed at Jared because he always balls his socks up and then when they get washed, they aren't thoroughly cleaned. (True story. I've been mad at him for less.) But anyway.. we were pretty much driving in silence until the song "Age of Aquarius" comes on and Jared starts to completely jam out. Legitimately, completely, 100% cymbals-on-the-dashboard jam out. It was so funny, I wasn't even mad at him anymore. He does stuff like that so often, that I'm starting to think thats why I love him.
Tomorrow, I've got another ultrasound appointment to go to. (Seems like I've been to about 9 million of these.. don't get me wrong, I like ultrasounds but I hate teh goo and I hate paying for parking and getting up early to look presentable for the doctor.) I'll be sure to post pictures for you when I can. My biggest fear (after watching a TLC show) is that there are secretly two babies in there, and one has been hiding behind the other the whole time.
I certainly feel enough like a sausage to believe there are two in there. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm excited to be getting a baby but at the same time I curse pregnancy every day. I am pretty sure the people who said they enjoyed pregnancy so much are either 1.) delusional 2.) faking liars or 3.) refugees that've spent every other day of their lives in a horrible tortured, war torn state. Every morning I have to pee so badly that when I stand up and my big ol' uterus plops down onto my bladder, it is like being stabbed in the bladder. (After all, my uterus is now the size of a generously proportioned CANTALOUPE. Nasty.) I've never had such severe pee pains before. The other annoying thing is that I can wake up every morning and some part of me is sore. That is assuming that I've gotten sleep at all. It is so ahrd to stay on my back all night that I keep waking up with the lower half of my body asleep and tingling, and many nights my rest is WAY less than restful after the amount of repositioning I've had to do.
I've been getting nosebleeds like crazy. Every once in a while I wake up and my first thought is taht I've murdered somebody, until I remember that I have this propensity for bleeding out of my face while I sleep. My stretch marks itch. My face is greasy 5 minutes after I wash it. None of my old clothes fit me. But that, my friends, even all of that, is not the worst part. Here is the worst part:
SAUSAGE SYNDROME. (Yeah, that is pretty much a medical term.) I call it Sausage Sydrome (which is conveniently shortened to SS, and has similar connotations as the German SS) because if I had to choose something to represent my life right now, it would bea sausage. Trying to fit into some of my old clothes is probably the first usage of the term, but it has expanded FAR beyond that now. Even when comepletely naked, I still feel like a sausage. I feel like I have ALWAYS just eaten a 5 course meal. There isn't enough room in this inn to say, eat even 2 pieces of french toast without laying down some serious hurt. When I lie on my side, I feel like my stomach is flopping out and pulling the rest of my organs with it. I just feel so tight and stuffed that there is no other way of explaining it, except to say that I have become a sausage.