Trail(mix) of Tears: The Beauties of Pregnancy

I am excited for the arrival of Baby Girl Clawson (in approximately 9 weeks, yay for single digits!) for many reasons. I am excited to kiss her face, count her fingers and toes, feel her soft baby skin, and just simply stare at her for hours. But I am also very excited for Baby Girl's arrival because I will not be pregnant anymore.

Am I grateful for the miracle of life and the opportunity to use my body in the coolest way possible? Yes. Have I exactly enjoyed the last six months? Not really, no, which probably already makes me a terrible mother.

First there was four months of throwing up several times a day. That never got fun, and there are some foods I don't think I can ever eat again. So long spaghetti. It was a nice couple decades we had together.

Then there was the awkward stage where none of my clothes fit and people were starting to wonder if I was pregnant, but didn't feel like they could ask so just stared at my midsection awkwardly. Eyes up here people!

And now there's having to run to the restroom every 45 minutes, herculean efforts to heave myself over in bed, and a daughter that either likes to bounce on my bladder or jab my lungs repeatedly. So, no, pregnancy isn't my favorite.

Behold, the beauty of pregnancy cravings. Shown above, BLT on homemade bread.

Except...

My mood swings. I should probably be more irritated by them, but instead I find them incredibly entertaining. Well, not in the moment when I'm sobbing in a very public place, but later. Much, much later. 

At the end of May, Brad and I moved into a new apartment (goodbye itty bitty freezing hobbit hole). At the end of a long day of packing, there was no food in the house, and I was starving. I was so hungry I had reached the point of hanger (the treacherous combination of hunger and anger) so Brad whisked me away to Chic-fil-a to get some fries in me (one of the only things I could keep down). As the employee laid those beautiful waffle cut, greasy, potato, manna-from-heaven creations in front of me I started to weep. It wasn't like a tear or two leaked from the corner of my eyes, this was a full on gush of two eyes and one nose. Those fries were the most beautiful thing I had ever smelled or eaten. Brad was oh so kind and proceeded to laugh hard enough that everyone in the restaurant decided to look at me.

Similar expressions of joy were had over the next few months as I bought my first pair of maternity pants (seriously the most comfortable jeans ever invented), watched youtube videos of cute babies and toddlers, and when our swamp cooler started working after a week of torture.

My favorite experience happened just over a month ago. It had been a pretty rough week. Our car didn't pass its safety inspection and needed more money in repairs than it was actually worth, I lost my wallet, my cell phone stopped charging or turning on for longer than five minutes a day, everything was piling on top of each other in one great mountainous heap of destruction. Amazingly enough, I had been able to keep a pretty cool head about everything and see the big picture: all our possessions could fall apart but me and baby were really healthy and that made everything better. Then, one afternoon Brad and I were sitting on the third floor of the engineering building eating our lunch. I had underestimated the size of Brad's stomach, as I often do, and Brad had consumed the lunch I packed and was still starving. Being the practical guy he is, Brad knew he needed a snack to get through the rest of the day of studying and so decided to get some trail mix (the item in the vending machine with the most calories per dollar, he's calculated it). However, all he had was a $20 bill. He fed it into the drink vending machine that could return dollars, expecting to be able to get all $20 back in ones. Nope. He was forced to buy a lemonade to get the rest of his change. I, penny pincher that I am, found that irritating. But then, after collecting his change, he went to the other vending machine, fed in his quarters, selected the trail mix, and...it got stuck.

The result of those moments of stress, a new car!

Apparently I can handle a fair amount of stress, but the lost money from the lemonade and the stuck trail mix was too much for me. This time I didn't just cry, I didn't just weep, I sobbed. My tear ducts opened up like Niagara Falls, and my face, neck, and arms were quickly covered by long black tear stains. My attempt to quiet my own sobs just made the odd hiccuping sound even louder. Amidst a crowd of engineering students, there was nowhere to hide.

Then, I started laughing because I realized how ridiculous it was to cry over a handful of nuts and raisins. But that made me cry harder because it reminded me that I wasn't even in control over my emotions let alone the rest of my life. Then I laughed harder, then I cried harder. Poor Brad. All he could do was awkwardly pat my back and wait.

So, the moral of the story is that if you bring me a donut (which is what I'm craving right at this moment), I may be so grateful I will burst into tears.

No, really. Bring me a donut.

I'm so hungry...