Breaking Mom

I’m hitting my 36th week on Wednesday and have definitely gotten to the awkward get-this-kid-out-of-me stage of pregnancy. I never actually had to think about how much time I was going to spend standing somewhere, but now it’s pretty much all I care about. The kid is also obsessed with my bladder. It’s like s/he is treating it as it’s first bouncy ball, hitting it and watching it bounce back. Yes, you’re right. I know nothing about anatomy. But I like to imagine Zigs is having a good time in there, despite how scrunched up s/he is.

I, however, am not having such a great time. It could be A LOT worse. I could be on bed rest, I could be not sleeping at all, I could be dead. I try to remind myself of this whenever I get pissy, which happens, lately, most of the hours in the day.

I’ve been trying to keep that in check. My hormones haven’t been at all crazy during this pregnancy, and I don’t think I can blame them now. I think it’s just because MY BACK HURTS and my groin doesn’t enjoy my runs as much as it used to. And the aforementioned bladder issue has me thinking about pee 24/7.

But some will point to the media I’m consuming. When I told people that I was reading this (amazing) book (that everyone should read) called The Book Thief, I got comments about how it might not be the best time to be reading a novel set in Hitler’s Germany narrated by Death. I’ve also been going to the dark side on TV – Dexter, Breaking Bad, and Orange is the New Black.

I don’t really think I can blame the media, though. The only time I’ve noticed a work of fiction affecting my mood is if it’s a really horrible work of fiction. If I’m reading a bad book that I’m trying to get through, that’s going to make me pissy. If a show I like has gotten stupid, same. I’m not saying books, movies, tv can’t make me cry or laugh or whatever, but to really affect my mood, it’s an issue of quality.

And my fictional world isn’t all dark and violent. I have my Hypnobabies studies, which are constantly telling me how wonderful and comfortable I am. Hubs found this article about a study showing that affirmations work, so that should be helping with the pissy.

As far as media, I’m now reading The Elephant Vanishes, a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakami. I adore Murakami, and while not light or fluffy, his stuff is so absurd that you really can’t blame it for any mood swinging.

TV-wise, I blame Ziggy for my current obsession with Bones, which is probably the definition of fluff. Sure, there is goop and gore, but it’s not going to make anyone suicidal. Of course, with this one, there IS a quality issue, so it could be a factor. But Ziggy won’t let me stop watching it. It’s a problem.

I’m supplementing that stuff with Roseanne and Mad About You re-runs. Nothing depressing there, unless you count my realization that Jamie (Mad About You) is probably the worst person ever, at least in the first season.

So, I don’t think I’ll be adjusting my media habits to calibrate my mood. I’m not saying it isn’t something that CAN happen, I’m just saying I don’t think it’s happening in my case.

All of this reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from a poem called “Late Hours” by Lisel Mueller:

What luxury, to be so happy/that we can grieve/over imaginary lives

If something is good enough to make me cry, I’ll take it. Maybe it’ll even mean I won’t cry as much when I’m walking the dog or unpacking pictures (that one may have happened yesterday). I’m very lucky to have this luxury, and I’m not giving it up. I’ve already given up bending over, a careless disregard for pillows (I need them pretty much all of the time now), running at a normal pace, getting into a car without groaning (see also: getting out of said car), breathing like a regular person, and sleeping through the night. You’re not taking away my Breaking Bad, Zigs, and that is FINAL.

I’m going to be such a good mom…

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