Sorry I haven’t responded to the email – my schedule’s been nuts as of late. The pregnancy posts are funny stuff. You guys should write some sort of book – pregnancy from both points of view. Anyway, the only thing funnier than your post was the ads at the top of the page. Two for “anti-snore” devices, one for “sleep disorders” and one for “mini gastric bypass surgery”. Can Google BE more accurate? (spoken ala Chandler…)

-B

So anyway, being the nice, sweet wife that I am, I figured I would continue to allow James to sleep in his own bed at night, even though he continues to snore. I didn’t want to be mean and kick him out. I am just too nice. I would have thought that after I continued to hit him night after night and complain about his nightly racket every morning and how I am not able to get any sleep, that he would have chosen to sleep somewhere else out of the goodness of his heart. I was sorely mistaken.

And you know how most women complain about how men don’t know how to read them? I have to admit that it is very true sometimes. Men complain about how women give “subtle” hints, and that we can’t expect them to pick up on them. How subtle is “I can’t sleep at night because of your snoring. You know we have three other beds in this house you could sleep on.” Or how subtle is “I am so tired this morning that my eyes sting. I don’t feel very well either. I think you stressed me out by teasing me about my blood draw today. You know I have been having REALLY strange dreams since I have been pregnant, and incorporate things from that night into my dreams. I think I incorporated your teasing me about the blood draw and it stressed me out in my sleep all night long. If it were up to me, I would crawl back into bed right now.” So from that, I would think he could decipher that I was tired and not up for his usual antics! In the same hour, he managed to make that “you should take an interest” comment, and a comment about how I tend to be a stressful person. Oh that really helped matters. So there I was, feeling the most tired I have ever been, on my way to the docs to get the blood drained out of me, getting a bit sick that morning, and being the brunt of some very hurtful comments from James (even though my sweet, darling husband says he meant them all in fun).

So, we get to the docs, and the assistant insists on weighing me with my shoes on! I had already stripped off my jacket and purse (or as James calles it, my luggage) and handed that to James. Normally when I have been weighed, I have slip on shoes. My weight so far had been taken without shoes on at all, and now she wants to add the extra (I am going to say 8 pounds, although it is probably more like 3) weight to my chart!!! So when the nurse practioner looks over my weight progress with a bit of a glum face, my stress level did rise a bit. Keep in mind, that I didn’t sleep well. Don’t make me explain it again! She continues to say that it is more than she expected and a bit more than what I should have gained so far. She basically called me a fatty. James is really good at lying to make me feel better though. Then she said I would be ok if I only gained 1/2 pound per week until the end. Don’t most pregnant women gain about 1 pound per week in the last month or so! I am so screwed!!! She said that with my height, I should only gain about 25 pounds my whole pregnancy! I am half way there already. (And thanks James for letting everyone know how much weight I have gained so far).

So on top of that, and knowing how much I hate having needles stuck in my arm, my best friend (the nurse practioner) said that she wanted to draw another tube to test my thyroid levels (a condition I have had for about 2 years now). Well if I had known sooner, I would have had the assistant draw an extra tube while she had the needle in my arm! So this means I now have to go back to the docs sometime this week to get my arm jabbed again!!! James gets a kick out of all this, and loves seeing the blood leave my body. The only thing that comforts me is the cartoon band-aid I get afterwards!

So, then once we get to the car, James tells me that I should just eat healthier. You know… carrot sticks, veggies, things like that. Ok… I have JUST started to be able to eat veggies. The whole first trimester, everyone I know and their mothers (they must all think they are docs) told me to eat whatever I could for a few reasons. One- this is the only time in your life you can get away with it. Two- eat whatever sounds good to you right now because you should eat whatever you can hold down and doesn’t make you feel sick. Three- eat whatever sounds good to you because it probably means that your body is lacking in that nutrient and therefore you need it (iron from meat, calcium from cheese, etc.). And now James is telling me that I don’t eat very well and I should eat healthier!!! Did he know I was already having a bad day and that he was just adding to my stress??

Right… so we are in the car basically not talking to eachother. James is about to get out of the car and said something like, “I am not sure if you are mad at me, but I am sorry for whatever I have done or whatever I have said.” And that is when my “meltdown” officialy began. I was not angry at James. He just happened to be the one close by and the brunt of all my pregnancy hormone anger issues. I basically cried lots and lots and told him all the reasons I am stressed out… 1) Because I am not reading the books everyone is telling me I should be reading, 2) I am not enrolled in any classes right now, 3) I have not even looked into any classes that I should be taking, 4) I obviously don’t care about this baby because I have not read any of the books I should be reading, 5) people feel that I want to hear all advice known to man, including what colors I like for the baby’s nursery, 6) people are telling me how I will be after birth, 7) I am not officially fat and will continue to be obese the rest of my life, etc. Ok… there are some things that I would like to figure out for myself. I know everyone means well, and I love you all. But, if I am constantly bombarded with all these things that I should be doing, and I find I am not doing them (lack of energy, vomiting, no time, don’t feel the same way, etc.) don’t you think that I will feel I am not giving my baby the best chance of being healthy, that I will think I am a failure? So that is basically what James had to hear in the car. And in the middle of all my crying (keep in mind I had to go to work afterwards) I asked James the most evil question of all time… “Do I look OK?” How the heck is he supposed to respond? “You need a hose”, “You look as lovely as ever”, “I love the mascara running down your face look. I knew it was just a matter of time before that was “in”… and the red puffy eyes are so vogue”!

Anyway, that is MY side of the story. And we all know that I am right!! Other than the fact that I cry at commercials, I have been pretty level headed… not moody, etc. Until the day of the “meltdown”. I still think that it was all James’ fault. See above reasons if you doubt me.

PS-James slept in a different room that night, but I allowed him to come back to “my” bed the following night.