It finally happened – the leakage from the boobage went beyond the 4-lane highway strap nursing bra to the outer layer of clothing in a very visible, distinct, dark round circle about my nipple area.
Thank goodness I was at home and Aaron was the one to point it out to me. The milestones we’ve covered are endless.
Out come the nursing pads – which make you sound like a stuffed bunny when walking if your shirt isn’t baggier than the 4XL t-shirt Uncle Frank wins at his bowling league every year.
I’ve read, and have now experienced, the onslaught of pregnancy amnesia. I can’t remember anything.
The asked for my birth date at the hospital the other day and I gave them my address. Then I gave them Aaron’s birth date and then, after a long pause and my eyes shut – fully utilizing my brainpower to remember MY birth date, I came up with it and spewed the information out as fast as I could.
I can’t remember names, of anyone. Instead I use the phrase “what’s his butt, or what’s her butt” alot of the time. Because we all know what’s his butt and what’s her butt. It’s illegal not know about their butts, we live in America.
Appointments are awful, unless I have a reminder of some sort, chances are, I won’t be there. And if you’re making an appointment with me, tell me to get back to you – because unless I have my planner with me, I will forget that I’m double booking you the same night as a baby shower. This has happened twice already.
Or I’ll be on the phone, telling you a story or something confidential and I’ll mention the fact that it’s confidential – people usually respond that with the remark of “Tell me what?” and I’ll say, “what?” right back. I’ve already forgotten I told you anything at all, and I’m wondering what the hell you’re talking about.
I do feel like I’m losing my mind a bit, everyday I wonder if there’s something I’m supposed to do, and I’ve forgotten. Because I’ve forgotten to pick a friend up from work already and although I had the nagging feeling that I was supposed to have done something important that day, I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I went on with whatever it was I was doing and even forgot about the nagging feeling.
My mind is a mental mess, as are my organization skills. I have none as of now.
What’s really bad is when I’m out with a friend and we’re talking and I keep telling them the SAME thing or story over and over again because I can’t remember who I’ve already told, and I should learn to just assume that they know, because they just look at me like I belong in the mental ward and I give them a blank stare right back, because I have NO IDEA what I just said. I go blank. And you’re lucky if I even get the full story or sentence out. Sometimes I stop mid conversation and I’ll move on to the next thing.
This is an epidemic, I’m telling ya.
I had a doctors appointment yesterday, and like every other one so far – there was the weighing in, the blood pressure, the asking questions and the directions for blood tests and what not inbetween this and my next appointment.
Everything is hunky dory, the doctor is about to come in and meet us and see if we have any additional questions. Well before he came in I asked the nurse about some girly things pertaining to my girly things and she suggested we have the doctor “take a look” just to ease my mind.
Ok, no big deal … I’ve done this before – I’m not nervous.
But then it happens, I’m laying on this bed with my butt hanging out in mid air and my feet hoisted in these stirrup things – and like a small wind passing in the field, I let one go.
Not just any piece of gas I keep stuck up there, I let the little airy one out – the one that makes noise like a creeky door upon exit because I’m trying my darndest to keep it up there without moving anything so the doctor won’t know I’m squirming for my dignity.
Lets just take a moment shall we?
I farted in my doctors face.
And then because I didn’t know what to do – I started laughing. Out loud. Like a school girl.
I wanted to pee my pants I was so embarassed.