02 October, 2011

Call me bass-ackwards.

It's funny. I've always been backwards. Awkward. Abnormal. Whatever you want to call it. I didn't expect that to extend to pregnancy.

All my friends/colleagues/family members have said pretty much the same thing about when they were pregnant. The first few months (at least) were normally ridden with nausea, then things evened out and became... well, pleasant... until the last few weeks. In the last few weeks, the waiting game played havoc with their nerves/patience/fortitude to the point that misery ensued. The swollen hands and ankles, the endless bathroom trips, the constant indigestion, but mostly the incessant wondering as to WHEN THIS TINY HUMAN WILL VACATE MY BODY.

I've been the exact opposite. The first four months were definitely rocky with nausea until I figured out it was the dairy making me feel awful, but rather than things settling down I began to deal with the complications brought on by hypermobility. Constant pain isn't really conducive to enjoying pregnancy... and don't get me wrong, I have the swollen appendages, have to pee every five minutes, and I'm keeping Zantac in business. That said, the last week or two have been almost pleasant. Yeah, I'm enormous, and if I stand/walk for too long at a stretch my back hurts, but that's pretty easy to get around (sit down, right?). I've got more energy in the last week as well, which goes a long way toward feeling a little more like myself rather than the boneless slug I've become over the last nine months.

Of course, I'm excited about getting her on the outside (if mostly so I can hand her to Himself and say "hold this"), but I'm also not in the depths of despair. I'm aware that at most it'll be three weeks before they'll induce her out of me, and three weeks feeling like I do right now won't be that bad. I've actually managed to get a few bits done in the last week, several loads of laundry and a few of dishes, some cooking, even some clearing out of a few of my infamous "bags of bits"... you know, those bags that you shove the random receipts, pens, nail files, bits of post, and other various sundries into when you're tidying up. Yes, everyone does it. No, really, they do. Shut up.

Anyway, things are good. We've had a lazy weekend here at Chez Gabs, with the notable exception of a trip to the vet with El Gato de Himself... (Kit) She came downstairs on Friday night sporting a wicked limp, Himself and I both had a look and couldn't see anything wrong with her, but as we didn't fancy sharing the house with a three-legged cat we decided to take her to the vet on Saturday morning. We managed to make it all the way there without her having forcibly ejected anything from either end (a serious victory, in case you don't recall Kit's Car Adventures of previous posts) and got seen by the vet straight away. Turns out she had a puncture wound right at the edge of her little toe pad on her front right paw, and the vet reckons it was possibly from a set-to with a neighbourhood moggie, so he gave her a shot of antibiotic and a shot of painkiller as well as some painkillers to have for the next few days.

I don't know if you've ever seen a stoned cat, but let me tell you, it's pretty funny. She spent most of Saturday sprawled out on the bed looking dazed and making odd not-quite-meowing noises, and had a relapse this morning after we gave her today's dose. Rather than get up and jump off the bed, she sort of bonelessly slid off the edge and happened to land on her feet by what appeared to be a grand stroke of luck. Oh well, at least she's back on all four legs. Please see below for photographic evidence of her altered state...




Stoner cat. *snigger* Does it make me totally evil that I'm looking forward to tomorrow's dose? Oh well, so what if it does. I takes my amusement where I finds it. Speaking of amusement, Goonies is on TV, and I'm not paying it proper homage by multi-tasking during the screening. So, off to find the rich stuff.

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