Dear Lack of Sleep,
Look, I get it. You’re preparing me for when Elizabeth
arrives. You want my body to be well adjusted to functioning on you before she
gets here so that I don’t freak out and try to throw her out the window. I know
you want what’s best for both of us and everything but, here’s the deal:
I’ve done this before. I’ll be alright. I promise I’m not
going to shake her when she wakes up for a 2 am feeding. I PROMISE. I’ll adjust
when the time comes. I didn’t shake either one of the boys (very hard) and I
managed to quickly adjust to their schedules as not to put coffee in their bottles
or formula in my coffee cup. They survived. They were loved. I did fine.
Please, please let me sleep.
Dear Brain,
Please calm the eff down.
Like I just explained to Lack of Sleep, I’ve done this
before. There is no reason to be freaking out right now. Sure, you are allowed
to be excited and nervous and everything but, could you please do it at a
reasonable hour and not in the middle of the night? I know you are eager to get
this Three Kids show on the road and stuff but, you have to calm down a bit and
let me relax. You running constantly isn’t doing either of us any good. And
stay away from Lack of Sleep. She is not, I repeat, NOT your friend.
Dear Restless Leg
Syndrome,
Go away. No one likes you. You have no friends here and you
are really, REALLY starting to piss me off.
And stop egging Lack of Sleep and Brain on. They don’t need
your flippin’ help.
Dear Bladder,
SERIOUSLY?!
Dear Sciatic Nerve
Pain,
You are being completely ridiculous. I have two kids to take
care of. I can not be all crippled and in pain with you. I have more important
things to do. There is hair to wash, breakfast to make, lunches to pack,
monsters to scare away, shoes to tie and boo boos to kiss. I’m really busy
right now raising people and you constantly shooting debilitating pains down my
leg is really cramping my style.
Dear Nausea,
I thought we talked about this around week 18 and we both
agreed that you were going to stay away. I know it’s hard and you think I’m
really fun to hang out with but, I assure you, I’m not. It’s not you, it’s me.
Please go bother someone in their first trimester. They’re already expecting
it. There is some woman out there who has been trying to get pregnant for three
years and finally saw two pink lines and will totally welcome your company. She’ll
be grateful for it. You two will make a perfect match.
Me? I’m over you. Accept it and move on.
Dear Trial of Labor
and VBAC,
You don’t scare me.
Bring. It. On.
Dear Pregnancy,
You really are beautiful.
I want you to know I think you’re amazing and I’m really glad
you chose me again, no matter what I say sometimes. Growing a person from
scratch is really quite an honor. I feel blessed beyond measure to have you in
my life. If it was just me, you and the fluttering fetus, we’d be great. It’s
those other bastards that give you such a bad rep. You, my dear friend, are a
miracle and nothing compares to you. Thank you for coming back when I least
expected it and giving me one more chance to soak you in. It’s been very
exciting to be able to share you with the boys. They think you’re pretty neat,
too. I love the way you make Jeremy look at me all googly eyed, like I’m some
kind of rock star. I love lying on my left side at the end of the day and letting
you and the baby move and dance around while I watch Grey’s Anatomy. Fetal
hiccups are borderline blissful. Listening to Brodie sing Ba Ba Black Sheep to
my belly and watching Logan kiss it
goodnight are two things I’ll never forget. I appreciate what you’ve done for
my hair and my nails. My skin isn’t looking so bad, either. You have yet to
leave any stretch marks this time around and for that, I thank you. I’m so glad
you chose to give me a girl to grow this time. Fussing over pink things has
actually made those evil friends of yours more bearable. (just don’t tell them
I said that)
You have done nothing wrong and I want you to just keep on
keepin’ on for about 3-4 more weeks, okay?
You’re doing great. Thank you for being you. I love you.
Love,
Krysten
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