Everyone has heard about how the surging hormones of a pregnant woman cause her moods to swing faster than a married couple at a key party. Happy one minute, crying on the kitchen floor the next; cuddling with the hubby on the couch, then suddenly wondering what it would feel like to smash his head in with a hammer.
While I do expect to have my ups and downs, I’m not really an emotional person. In fact, I pride myself on being able to rationally assess almost any situation. I might shed a tear or two over some particularly poignant movie moment or an especially sad story in the paper, but I don’t expect to find myself sobbing in the grocery store because they’re all out of Simply Orange (please, it is the only orange juice).
The first time I had an inkling that I might be pregnant I was playing with our beloved dog, Astro. I looked at that handsome puppy face of his and said, “How are you cuter than normal?” Then I turned to Snowman and said, “He is cuter than normal, isn’t he? How is that possible? He is like 33% cuter than yesterday.”
Was this my maternal instinct kicking in? Possibly. And since that day, I have to say, Astro is consistently cuter than normal.
Today while writing an email to a colleague about how frustrated I am at work I might have cried a little bit. At my desk. Even though no one saw, I’m still embarrassed as I generally do not believe crying at work will ever result in anything good. The worst part is that I can’t even blame it on the baby because I haven’t told anyone at work yet that I’m pregnant. Looking forward to my reputation as the unhinged lady in cube 3.
Still if that’s the worst my hormones can do, I can’t really complain, can I? (NB: Do not tell a pregnant woman she cannot complain or she will rip your heart out.)