So, yesterday had been one of those days, or rather, this week has been one of those weeks. 

One of those weeks where I am out of breath with every flight of steps I walk, and I have a long list of things I want-to/need-to/would-like-to-do. One of those weeks where my husband seems to play too many video games for my liking, and my kid throws too many tantrums, and my patients grind their teeth while I am attempting to poke their tough, leathery, weathered skin with the smallest possible IV... you know, grinding them just to make my skin crawl.

I walk outside and immediately find it a little harder to breathe in the thick and wet air. My stomach hurts after I eat anything. Nothing I make looks right, everything I clean gets filthy within an hour, nothing stays folded, I can't do my make-up right. 

You know...I might as well have my period too.

But I am still pregnant. So no period. I am thirty-one and a half weeks.  And if one more person asks how long I have to go, and then follows it up with an apologetic look... well then I just don't know what I am going to do.

Throw myself on the ground? Cry? Yell at them to not patronize me... because their apologetic look implies sympathy, and I am pregnant - not sick or maimed. Wildly scream at them to save their sympathy for someone who needs it! Whatever it is.. I will make them wish they had never asked.

or just make them believe I am crazy.

And yes, isn't it crazy that when you get tired and weighed down by stuff, that you feel like everyone is out to get you? And you know deep down that the world is pretty much good, or that people, for the most part, intend good - at least I know I do. But you get so exhausted sometimes, of doing life, just like everyone else is doing, and begin to feel that everyone is against you, and you are fighting whatever fight there is, alone...
So, tonight I just had enough. I was so full of complaints and frustration, that I just needed to go. I put chloe to bed after what I decided would be the last tantrum of the night, replaced the boxer shorts that I had borrowed from my husband's drawer, with a skirt and sandals, and told Christian that I was going for a walk, and quickly asked did he want anything? He asked if he could go buy me ice cream. He asked if I wanted to go out and get a pedicure and offered to pay. 

No. None of those things are what I need or want. I want to walk. I must walk by myself, freely, and just do whatever I want to do. Without needing to push a stroller, or handle requests for blue slurpee/angry birds popsicles/a grey rock, or explain why I must hold your hand when we cross the street. I wanted needed to walk alone, like I used to. 

So I walked to my little cvs, and I perused the beauty products and thought about doing my nails, but decided not to after a bit. I selected a new eyebrow brush/lash comb. I passed by a beauty sponge that resembled a sex-toy and thought of buying it as a gag gift... then realized that I had very few friends or acquaintances that would realize the joke of this item - that would know what it resembled. I would never possibly be able to explain the item without raising some eyebrows or laughing to the point of tears, like a middle-schooler. But, when you are a nurse you learn about items that people stick in their bottoms... or rather ones that get stuck there. And if that sponge didn't look like a little hot pink butt-plug.

I put it down.

I moved onto the seasonal products. They had the tiniest little cacti and succulents, fake humming-birds that fed from fake flowers, but looked pretty darn real when they were moving so quickly. There was a big revlon display featuring Olivia Wilde, and I giggled while at the same moment feeling sad about how obviously they had covered up her one ever-so-slightly wonkey eye with her hair.  Because Olivia's wonkey eye makes me sincerely happy that she is so beautiful, and yet still possesses a characteristic that some might consider  a "flaw". Then it began to make me angry that her eye was hidden, as if there was something wrong with it. As if there was something wrong with her... and for that matter as if there was something wrong with anyone who has a bit of a wonkey-eye, or a hairy mole, or freckles, or acne scars, or a funny nose...

I took a breath and walked on.

I decided that I would buy my husband his favorite candy - airheads rainbow sour belts, because I hadn't been the nicest wife, and I liked the thought of buying him something. Then grabbed a copy of Vogue, because i liked the idea of flipping through it while doing nothing else.

little luxuries.

I walked around the store a few minutes more. Enjoying the air conditioning. Enjoying not being rushed by a husband would wanted to be home, or a child who was bored. I enjoyed every minute as I slowly walked to the counter, when I was ready, and paid for my three items. 

I left the store and continued my walk to the ice cream stand. Our local ice cream stand used to have the best ice cream stand name ever: Custard's Last Stand. Perfect right? It was a tiny little ice cream stand, with a few benches behind it, and a very large fluorescent ice cream cone on the top of it. the stand was painted white with bubble-gum pink trim. But now it has been renamed (Richman's), the pink trim has been replaced by red, and the glorious ice cream cone is gone. Oh yeah, the prices also went up about fifty perfect.

But I still go there, and so does everyone else, because it is the only ice-cream stand in walking distance. I got a small hot fudge sundae with soft-serve frozen yogurt, and surprised myself with how quickly I was able to devour it on the walk home. I paid for the ferocity in which I devoured it shortly after, when my stomach reminded me that it has very limited space to store ice cream and a baby. I gently pushed on the side of my stomach to try to move the baby and give my stomach room while grimacing from the pain I had caused myself by eating my frozen treat.

I smiled, because despite my stomach feeling that it was going to explode, it felt good to have eaten ice cream alone. And it felt really damn good to walk like I used to before I had a husband or child. To just walk to the store and think my own little thoughts, and walk down the isles I wanted to, and to just be alone and selfish in those minutes... and to relish it all.

Because I fervently adore my husband and my child so much with every bit of myself, but sometimes I need to just walk alone for a few minutes, and remind myself that I am a person who has thoughts and makes choices. I still have autonomy, gosh-darnit!

Even if it's just thoughts about Olivia's wonkey eye, or the decision to make of which isle to walk down at CVS.


  1. you're totally in your right and you must do it!!! i sometimes "send" my little girl and my husband to visit my mother in law so that i can enjoy a few hours just for myself. and well, you're not ill, just a little pregnant ;)
    (happy birthday!)

  2. Thanks Mirari! I remember walking a ton when I was pregnant with Chloe, and it seems to be what I turn to whenever I am going through something rough, like third trimester ;)


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