I am not someone who likes to blame a lot of my behavior on the major chemical imbalances that pregnancy hormones may cause. If I'm upset about something, it's likely that I would be upset about it in a non-pregnant state too. Maybe it's not true, and certainly proportion may change when things come up while pregnant. I think Jim's finally relaxing after "the dress comment" of '06.
But, my friends (John McCain is teaching me how to speak more folksy), this is the post where I admit that I was poisoned by hormones over the weekend.
We went to Chicago's Shedd Aquarium on Saturday. When I suggested this trip, I envisioned Willa holding Jim's hand, both of them delighted and captivated by the beluga whales. I pictured her grinning while saying "starfish." I pictured us leaving at closing time, and heading to the car smiling and maybe holding a fish shaped helium balloon.
This did not happen.
Chicago's Shedd Aquarium was very crowded on Saturday. Humanity was not feeling kind, and folks were throwing elbows to get a better look at the lizards (at the aquarium? I didn't get it, but it's been a popular temporary exhibit for them). Willa didn't want to stay in her stroller, I couldn't physically hold her much, and Jim was getting weary of the pointy elbowed masses.
Stern reminder to self: your darling husband does not like crowds - a gazillion times more than you do not like crowds. Stop forgetting this.
I thought I was a super-genius to suggest we go claim our seats for the dolphin show an hour before it started. It would give us some space from people, and we'd be able to sit down and watch the dolphins in their tank for a while. Jim thought he was a super-genius for claiming the seats against the fake rock formation that encircles the shows bleachers (back rests! yay!). And our plan would have worked if it weren't for that meddling kid - I mean our super-genius daughter who wanted to spend the time climbing the fake rocks.
The show started. She was not riveted. "Dolphins, schmolphins, mom," she could have said, "look at these fake rocks for climbing!" If there weren't the possibility for a stitches inviting head wound, I might have let her. Instead I held her on my lap, whispering in her ear a narration of what the dolphins were doing. She started to whine. She started to cry. She started to yell.
We left the dolphin show. While Jim was putting Willa into her stroller, I started to cry too. "No one's having any fun," I blubbered (this is your brain on hormones, friends).
We left the aquarium. We left Chicago. The whole time I couldn't shake the funk. In my head the entire day - the entire weekend - was ruined. It was our last big family trip before the baby comes and it was a failure. Which meant, of course, that I was a failure.
We ate at a super-fun place which actually turned out to be a highlight of the trip. That's for a different post.
We got home at midnight and by then I had worked myself into such a quiet knot that I was miserable. I didn't know what was happening. Jim was tired, so I went to sleep on the couch.
Suddenly I was sobbing. I went back to bed to wake Jim who wasn't sleeping. He was probably lying wide eyed and afraid of the hormonal hurricane that he knew was coming.
I said a lot of things that I didn't really mean and am not really concerned about. Like what? How about this gem: "what if we don't like our son?" I said that. Out loud.
I figured out, while lying there with Jim hugging me tightly, that I was just getting hit with the very normal (right?) fear about how drastically our lives are going to change once the baby arrives. How happy the three of us are together, and "why are we screwing with that chemistry?" Hormones took those fears, shot them up with 'roids, put them under a magnifying glass - in the sun - and started a fire.
When I was breathing normally again, I was able to laugh at my outburst. Then I started to get upset about how the day - the whole weekend - was ruined by my behavior.
So. There it is, my tale of pregnancy nuttiness. It happens. I'm admitting it. I'm scheduled for detox and recovery next month. In the mean time, send Jim vibes of patience.