Forget all my worries about being too small. I am HUGE. With 85 more days to go, how can I possibly get any bigger?
There is something quite shocking about my belly. When I eat, it’s tight as a drum. Last night I saw her move. It was a bit like a shark fin almost breaking the surface of the sea. Or Ripley in Aliens.
Every night I construct “Fortress Caliope” – one pillow to prop up the belly, two to prop up the head and ward off heartburn, one behind me to stop me rolling onto my back, depriving the baby of bloodflow and giving myself varicose veins and another for hugging purposes.
Fortress Caliope is proving to be a real passion killer. Attempting to access me the other night, Rufus valiantly battled his way through a few layers only to be sent away, dejected, by the “too tired”object of his desire.
I am quite tired, quite a lot, lately. Perusing my blood test results from last week (not seeing the doc till Wednesday), a few things leapt out at me. Mainly because they were highlighted in red. Not being a doctor, and the results being in Spanish, I could be wrong, but it appears as though I’m anemic and my cholesterol is sky-high.
Dr Google tells me high cholesterol is pretty common in pregnancy and tends to sort itself out. Anemia is also pretty common, and fixable with diet and supplements. I’ll see what the real doctor says this week. But it would explain the tiredness, which is not as bad as that first-trimester-WTF-is-it-even-possible-to-be-this-tired tiredness, but still not conducive to being super productive.
Work has gone from bad to possibly unsalvageable after my boss cut me out of something that was clearly my responsibility last week. When I challenged him he told me he didn’t think I was interested anymore and that he thought I would be too busy “basking in the glory of pregnancy”.
Thanks to him there hasn’t been a whole lot of basking going on – more of a demoralised, nervous wreck situation. I do not love confrontation. Never have, and probably never will. He has ground me down to a weepy, self-doubting mess. But after that conversation I switched from believing I just had to make it through the next three months, to believing I need to stand up for myself, some how. I think this man has caused real damage to my reputation. And as Rufus said, “You have to fight for Lola now, too”.
Unfortunately, I have no recording of the conversation, which might have helped prove to head office the extent of his bullying and general swineishness.
I keep telling myself the most important thing is the baby at this moment, and tomorrow is a new day. Also “change is good”, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”, and “This, too, shall pass”. Cliches, but all true. I will fight my corner this week, aim to have a productive week, and look forward to Wednesday when I get to look at an ultrasound again and be reminded about how wonderful life is, and that it is a whole lot bigger than the workplace.