Public displays of emotion really bother me. This is probably because I was raised by a corporate lawyer, so genetically half of my soul is missing. And during my first pregnancy, I didn’t cry. Well, except that one time that brownie tasted so good. But this time, I’m a mess. I traded in my crime procedurals for romantic comedies, and I spend a lot of my time clutching my heart and declaring things to be “so sweet.” My husband is more afraid of me now than the time I read him excerpts of a book on the Green River Killer.
I have four weeks left in my pregnancy, and I spend most of my days dabbing my eye with a tissue. The following reasons are just a few of the things that have brought me to really pathetic, snotty nose, chest-heaving sobs.
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The baby elephant at the St. Louis Zoo because it was born weighing 250 pounds.
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A really little pillbug, because where was its mother?
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The baby back ribs my husband made because they were so good.
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Seeing pictures of Kate Middleton, who is due around the same time as me. Seriously, I’ve been more pregnant with tacos.
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Staring at the detritus of toys strewn across my floor every night, because I’m going to have to bend over to pick those up, and I might never make it off the ground.
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M&M's.
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Every Michael Bublé song ever.
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My weight.
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Someone’s Facebook status about how we shouldn’t bully kids who are different.
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“The Edge of Glory” by Lady Gaga.
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The rain because I want the sun, and the sun because I’m so freaking hot.
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Wanting a Blizzard at 11 p.m. and my husband telling me that Dairy Queen was closed.
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My husband asking me if I needed help getting up off the couch.
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That sticky spot on the floor, because who will clean it? Who?
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Because I was crying.
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Did you cry like this when you were pregnant? Please fill me in.
