There’s been a lovely, dramatic change in the way I feel recently. Just this time last week I was afraid of my (possibly evil) baby for how uncomfortable it was making me. So achey, so FULL and crampy. I even went to the midwife to be sure it wasn’t something serious.
Nope. Normal. All of it, which was both reassuring and awful to hear at the same time.
But then, by the beginning of this week, I started to notice I looked… pregnant. And not just by 8 p.m. every night. My little bump was right out there to greet me first thing every morning, too. This coincided with the timing of starting to feel less like a pile of crap stuffed into a tuna can.
So I’m guessing… wondering if all of that last week really was growing pains? If the baby finally did that thing where it comes up out of your pelvis and is like, “Hello! It was awfully cramped and smelly down there. I’m going to build out a little house up here, instead.”
To which I say, PLEASE DO.
But something is amiss, my friends, because I’m afraid to report the baby has also relocated and possibly lost my ass.
Hello? Has anyone seen my butt? It wasn’t very big to begin with, so I can see how it could get lost or stolen easily, maybe stuffed into a moving box full of junk drawer items and forgotten, but, uhm…
I’M GONNA NEED THAT BACK.
Because pants don’t stay up with out it, and I’m afraid I’ll begin to get front heavy with nothing on the backend balancing out the new inhabitant.
So, dearest (possibly evil) baby, please search quickly for it and return it to it’s rightful place.