Week 17: Cry Me A River

Apparently, at 17 weeks, Awesome is no longer sweet and now is an onion. Which is apt, because this little one has tremendous super powers when it comes to making me spontaneously cry at the drop of a hat. Amos absolutely LOVES this aspect of Awesome. For him, crying means that one is experiencing extreme emotional overload and really only happens during major life and death events, like your own wedding and immediate family's funerals. It does not generally occur over yoga videos. And if it does, something is seriously, seriously wrong. Last week, I started sobbing when Amos had the audacity to make fun of the pregnant yogis on my prenatal yoga video. Upon hearing this, I rolled up the yoga mat and started to sob. He gave me a hug and apologized for upsetting me. I believe what followed was somewhere along the lines of, "Why can't you support me and tell me that I'm glowing?!!!!" "You're glowing," he said and wisely went into the bathroom and shut the door. When the tears flow, there is no reasoning with me. I'm like a wild animal and its best to back away slowly, but be sure to never, ever, turn your back or I may strike with, "Oh! And another thing!" ( I did, admittedly follow him to the bathroom, open the door and add "another thing." I then proceeded to cry on my bed for the next 15 minutes feeling very, very sorry for myself. All the while I was thinking about Anita Diamant's book, The Red Tent, and wishing I had a red tent to go into and be surrounded by women who would tell me that the yogis were not silly but very, very enlightened. These women would bathe my feet in rose water and feed me gummy worms and complement me on my stylish new capris with the elastic waist band.

The truth is, I don't mind the extra tears, some of the time. Crying while watching commercials for cell phones (That sweet couple can finally keep in touch!) gives me a strange sense of relief and is somewhat cathartic. What I do mind, however, is the crying that accompanies absolutely every conversation with my husband that involves disagreeing or negotiating or talking about feelings in any way. If that happens, watch out! Hear come the tears and the blubbering and all hope of having an adult conversation is now lost, down the tubes with the roll of toilet paper I now need to wipe my excessively running nose and ruddy swollen eyes. The truth of the matter is, sometimes I really do have some important point to get across, but it gets lost in the tears and the foot stomping, with Amos looking at me like I'm some sort of crazy person and it no longer becomes about the issue at hand, but my massive amount of emotion. Sometimes I can effectively hold off on having these conversations until we are both lying in bed and the lights are all off and he can't see my face, so when he says to me, "I wish you had remembered to pick up that thing at the store." I can say, " Yeah, my bad." and when I start to sniffle and he says, "Are you crying?" I can just say with forced cheeriness, "Nope! Just these danged allergies!" while I sob silently into my pillow over the injustices of the world.

So needless to say, I am looking greatly forward to moving beyond this "onion" phase which began the day I say that little plus sign and will end, hopefully before Awesome graduates from high school.

In other news, according to thebump.com, Awesome's skeleton is hardening, changing from rubbery cartilage to bone, and fat is finally accumulating around it. The umbilical cord is getting thicker and stronger, and those little fingers and toes are now topped by one-of-a-kind prints. That means she/he should turn away now form a life of crime, as they are officially "trackable"
Ah well, I'm sure it was fun for them while it lasted. Their joy riding days are over.

So here is what an onion looks like in my belly. Must be one of those vidalia onions, or perhaps one of those deep fried bloomin' onions from Outback Steakhouse. Note the extreme cherriness on my face that is meant to counteract the weepy moments that have also accompanied week 17.