37 week check-up yesterday... no signs that The Ninja will reveal its true identity any time in the foreseeable future. I am coming to terms with an early June baby, listening to a lot of Glee and Jesse Malin to pass the time, and calling it a day.
You know what I am having more trouble coming to terms with? The fact that, if I am pregnant for another 4 weeks?
I will be even fatter. And honestly, I can't take anymore weight gain. I can't control it, and maybe this is a big FAT lesson in humility, but for the love of Lionel... ENOUGH.
I am not going to tell you how much weight I've gained overall. I refused to tell J, even, as my weight is threatening to eclipse his own.
I will tell you that I gained another 6 pounds. THIS week.
So after stepping off of the scale, peeing in a cup (sidebar - that is FUCKING impossible now. Pee = everywhere), I sat in the exam room yesterday, waiting for the doc, and I cried.
Then I got annoyed with myself for wallowing, so I tried meditating... But when I repeated a yoga mantra - I am beautiful, I am bountiful, I am blissful - my internal monologue insisted: OH HELL YES YOU ARE BOUNTIFUL. FATTY.
So I just breathed instead. And examined my swollen feet and ankles.
When the kindest OB in all the lands finally entered, he asked how I was feeling.
"Defeated," I said.
"Why - the weight gain? I wasn't even going to mention it."
(You see? He is the most fantastic man.)
He told me that it happens... I've been healthy my entire life, and this is just my body on pregnancy. He said - though admitted it was anecdotal - that he finds fit women who gain excessive weight during pregnancy will return to their pre-pregnancy form relatively easily.
And he told me not to be so hard on myself.
And so I'll calm down, until I see a new doc next week, who may or not be as kind.