I’ve never been one of those “crazy pregnant women.” I’ve been emotional before, but not crazy like they show in movies, the stereotypical pregnant woman. I’ve never been the pregnant woman who cries at coffee commercials, screams at her husband because he didn’t take the trash out or loses it when someone gets a parking spot first. Honestly, I thought all the crazy homonal breakdowns that pregnant women talk about were kind of an excuse to lose it…they could just blame it on the pregnancy.
Well, it has happened. I have entered the world of stereotypes. I officially consider myself a Crazy Pregnant Woman (C.P.W.)! Luckily the first trimester is coming to an end and I can feel myself beginning to regain control of my emotions…or insane hormones. My husband has started coming home at normal hours again after weeks of hiding at his office, praying that his children would not be tied up in a closet when he got home.
A few weeks ago, I decided that I probably owed him an explanation for my unexplainable and rather dramatic meltdowns. I figured it was only fair that I try to describe what is actually going on in this hormonal brain so that when I bit his head off for no apparent reason he would at least know that in 9 months this craziness would come to an end (hopefully). Little did I know that our evening would present so many perfect opportunities for explanation!
We decided that a night out was in order. Russ planned an evening at the Cheesecake Factory and even arranged for his mother to watch the girls so we wouldn’t have the time constraints and expense of a babysitter…gotta LOVE Mee Mee’s! As we were getting ready to back out of our driveway, he noticed in the mirror (by the pure grace of God!) that Rhylee has snuck out and was hiding behind the car. He told me where she was and when I opened my car door all I saw were two precious little eyeballs poking out from around the taillight. After chasing her inside and scaring her half to death about the dangers of going behind a car, we tried to resume our date.
As were drove down the street, Russ tried to make smalltalk. After one sentence, it happened…the floodgate opened. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in two months that I had actually put on mascara, it was gone, streaming its way down my cheeks with no end in sight. I tried desperately to find anything that could serve as a tissue. After finishing off every stray napkin in the car, I moved on to some random piece of cloth. I’m still not sure what that was, but it served it’s purpose as I blubbered the ENTIRE way into Austin. As my uncontrollable episode went on, my husband just stared straight ahead, hands at 10 and 2, frightened that if he opened his mouth, the sobbing may get louder, or worse, I would back over HIM with the car. It’s hard to explain, but I physically COULD NOT STOP crying. I tried to explain this to him. He would just nod and keep driving. Poor guy…I knew how crazy I looked, but there was nothing that could be done about it.
We pulled up to The Cheesecake Factory and he offered to let me out at the door. By this time I had gathered myself reasonably enough to be able to speak in clear English to the hostess. Russ went to park the car (no small task in their crazy parking lot) and told me he’d be in in a minute. The waitress came and brought water and a basket of bread while I sat and enjoyed a quiet moment, reminding myself that Rhylee was alive and safe at home and that I should be thankful and enjoy an evening out with my husband. 5 minutes passed and then 10. By the time 15 rolled around, I had finished 2 slices of bread and the C.P.W. was making her appearance again. I mean, seriously, how long does it take to park the car??? I started calling and texting to no avail. 2 more minutes passed and by this point C.P.W. had come up with all kinds of reasons why he had not joined me at the table. About this time, I saw him waving me over from across the restaurant, looking quite annoyed. I joined him (at HIS table) and listened as he explained that the waitress had seated him because she said no one had come in by themselves to be seated. (Umm…did you not see the 6 foot tall woman with a protruding pregnant belly and red-rimmed eyes with no mascara??? Apparently not, but it was pretty hard to miss!) He figured I was in the bathroom composing myself so he went ahead and got a table. He asked if we could please start our evening over. I told him that would be a good idea seeing as I had come up with only 4 reasons that would explain his 17 minute absence:
1. He left me here…what else is there to do with such an emotional wreck?
2. He died in the car somewhere between the front door of the restaurant and the parking space.
3. He was on the phone with a board member from church (sorry, board members, but those conversations usually last a while) in which case I was prepared with a long lecture of why we don’t answer the phone on date nights.
4. He was calling his girlfriend to tell her not to call him tonight because he was out with his wife. *Note: for those of you freaking out right about now, this was COMPLETELY C.P.W. thinking this stuff up. There was NO reason for this particular situation other than hormones! So please save your “concerned phone calls” for another time.
He sat across from me wide eyed, in disbelief of all the things my brain could conjure up in such a short period of time. He leaned back and said, “Wow. I just thought you were in the bathroom.” Clearly, I needed to do some explaining. I explained to him that there are two people currently living in my brain: Logical Jaci (L.J.) and Crazy Pregnant Jaci (C.P.J.). L.J. is much smaller and quieter right now than C.P.J., but I wanted him to know that L.J. would take over my brain again someday…probably in about 7 more months. He just slowly nodded, unsure of what to say. I told him that throughout the night I would quickly tell him what C.P.J. was thinking so that he could understand why I lost it at any particular comment or action. The next example came very quickly.
We were sitting across from each other holding hands on top of the table. We were finally enjoying our evening, having a pleasant conversation, when the waitress walked up from behind him. He immediately let go of my hand and sat back as she asked us if we wanted more bread or water or something unimportant. We said no and she went on her way. I told him that at that moment, C.P.J. was thinking: “I’m fat, ugly and obviously an embarrassment to be with if he didn’t even want the WAITRESS to see him holding my hand.” Again, the stunned silence and confused look. “I just thought she had our food,” was all he could say
It ended up being a very fun evening as I explained various things C.P.J. was thinking, and he would very gently try bring L.J.back to the surface. By the end of the night we had had several good laughs and a relaxing evening…the whole point!
Things are much better now, as I explained before. C.P.J. only makes her appearances on occasion and can usually be quieted down with something chocolate or mashed potatoes from Bush’s…but not together…yet. As for my husband, well, pray for him. There is a pretty good chance that he is getting ready to have his fourth daughter (just based on our track record) and dealing with C.P.J. will look like a walk in the park when they are all teenagers and I’m going through menopause! Oh the blogs that will come out of that! 🙂