I have a confession to make that the general infertile community is not going to like.
Involving weight gain.
(I can hear you rustling through your grocery bag in search of tomatoes and possibly darts or other sharp objects.)
(Hold please while I step into my full body armor.)
I realize the annoyances I am about to cause, because I have rolled my eyes and given the finger to my computer many, many times after reading about a pregnant person complaining about weight. I've been the person desperate to just get pregnant who wanted to kill or seriously injure someone smug enough to have what I wanted and have the gull to complain about the very things that are supposed to happen.
I get it.
It's not that I don't like my belly. I think I look damn adorable, if I'm being quite honest. I took this 18 week picture this morning, then exclaimed to myself "self, you are the cutest person alive!"
There has been some significant rounding happening in my abdomen this week and look? Who doesn't think that's cute? Who, I say?
(If you do not, please do not bother to comment because lo! I careth not what you think! Spread bitter elsewhere!)
Now that the disclaimers are posted I should probably get to the point.
The point being that I am having a hard time accepting weight gain. I worry about it. I worry about it too much, I'm sure. Every time I weigh myself (every morning), I calculate the acceptable amount of weight gain that I have left and try to imagine how it will spread out over the pregnancy and how much I will end up gaining overall based on what I've gained so far and try to think of healthier things to eat so that I will not gain too much.
I worry that people think I look way bigger than I should at 18 weeks - which has been magnified by the new development this week of having complete strangers ask me OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT WHEN ARE YOU DUE?
My favorite was, "You're not fat, you're pregnant!" exclaimed as soon as I walked through the door. And I was all, exactly! But...am I that big?
And trust me when I say that I want to bash my own face into the pavement for having these thoughts.
Speaking of bashing my face into the pavement, I think I am stereotypically becoming the emotional pregnant person. Because it was really hard for me not to cry at the end of The Office this week (the Jim and Pam part, not the Toby part) because OH! LOVE! Tis grand!
Other happenings: I should be studying. Right now. Twenty Minutes Ago. Three weeks ago. Am I studying right now? Well, no.
I cannot study at home because I am too distracted by TV, laundry, MY COMFY BED. Those sorts of things. So I usually go to some sort of coffee shop and study because I am forced to get done (except when they have WiFi and I bring my computer).
Sometimes my efforts are thwarted because people think that I look like I am a nice person and want to talk to the people who hang out in coffee shops on the weekends just for shits and giggles. And conversation, apparently? I swear - I am sitting with papers everywhere, books opened, and a look of concentration. Yet, somehow, someone strikes up conversation with me and will.not.stop.talking. no matter how many times I give a one word answer then look away, or just smile and nod and give looks of death.
I don't think that people realize that I'm not that nice. I mean, I don't care what you do for a living or where you vacation, or oh, you're majoring in accounting well let me tell you a story about accounting! NO! GO AWAY!
(Unless your story is about how you somehow found an extra $100 on your books and want to give it to a knocked up grad student you met in a coffee shop as a means of community service. Then we can talk.)