Twisted experiment

I’ve created a liver, lungs, lips and the bones are hardening. My biggest challenge now is to maintain the delicate balance of eating while appeasing the fire-breathing dragon parked in my throat. One minute I’m so ravenously hungry I could absolutely picture myself eating the entire buffet at a Ruby Tuesdays, then after only 3 bites, I pull my shoulders back and crane up at the ceiling, hoping that my table aerobics will create even the tiniest more room for food that I desperately want. Two more bites after that, the dragon is back, spitting tiny balls of flame, reminding me, he indeed exists.

My recent inner dialogue is not unlike that of a deep-sea divers journal entries while trapped under the sea in some lengthy bizarre experiment:

11/15/11: There is a strange burning sensation in my throat. I’ve eaten the rations I’ve been provided. Could I have possibly swallowed some sea water? I’ve been under orders to increase my portions to allow for the increased burning of calories but I’m finding it harder to consume it all.

11/20/11: A severe increase in bubbles emitting from the lower valves accompanied by a noise I have never heard before. Could my wetsuit be compromised?

11/20/11: I believe I crop-dusted some unsuspecting sea life.

11/21/11: Abdominal muscles are beginning to appear severely distended. Could it be the illusion of my mask or am I weakening? The fish are starting to stare.

12/05/11: An increase in the burning sensation. At first I was able to link it to certain rations. It now appears to come and go at will. I have taken to nibbling kelp.

12/07/11: Crop-dusted a whale. I do not feel bad.

12/10/11: My export is not matching my import. Something needs to be done about this or my abdomen might explode its already stretched capacity.

12/13/11: My endurance is lessening. I am weakening. This is not good. I am not exactly sure what lies ahead but I’m beginning to think I am less prepared for it than I’d like to be.

12/15/11: I have increased my exercise regimen. It’s not helping. My abdomen continues to distend further.

12/16/11: Burning sensation increases. Is my throat permanently scalded?

12/22/11: My ability to take a deep breath has officially begun to diminish. It is as though something is creeping up from below and pushing, nay, shoving up on my lungs. Must surface soon. Alas, while I’ve been told my specimen is now viable, my surface contact informs me that at least 3 more months is optimal.

12/23/11: Burning sensation constant. Bubble emitting constant. Distended abdomen now constant and possibly suffering irreparable damage. Formulating a proposal to the big boss man in which my partner will undergo the experiment next time.

Grown-ups say the darnedest things*

*to you when you're pregnant.

I'm not sure what it is about a pregnant belly that makes people feel like they can say whatever they want to you. I get that I'm participating in the most basic and vital miracle of life and its beautiful, blah blah blah, but seriously, how is it that verbal filters get clogged and folks just let it overflow. Do they think the bump makes you less sensitive or will keep your fist from reaching their face?

Before I was really showing, like the extremely obvious "baby bump" I now sport, one of the nurses, who knew I was pregnant, was asking me if I'd gotten my work benefits squared away since she knew I'd been in a battle with my boss to get full-time benefits before I "came out" of the pregger closet. Another nurse, sitting near-by decided to pipe in with her oh-so-thoughtful advice. "Term it. Kids ruin your life. Just term it." (And for those of you not in the medical field, she meant terminate it.) Right then, the ER tech, who happened to also being sitting too close to the now very awkward conversation said, "Well, if you don't term it, there are always people who will buy your baby." Who said I was selling it? Who says I don't want this baby? These are also some of the same people who forget I'm married, even though Paul used to work in the same ER before he was hired at the PD and has been introduced to people as my husband on numerous occasions. These are the comments from the people who decided to join the medical field because they want to care and heal and help people. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy now doesn't it.

And there's more:

ER Doc: "Is that uh, you know, what I think it is?" (As he puts his arm around my shoulder in a fatherly manner.)

Me: "I don't know Dr. C, what do you think it is?"

ER Doc: "Well I'm hesitant to say until it actually comes out."

Me: "You mean the baby?"

ER Doc: "Yeah, I didn't know if it might be a tumor or something"

Me: "Right, a tumor. 'Cause that's an obvious choice."

In the hospital cafeteria at the check-out line from a woman who has obviously never been denied a meal in her life. In her thick eastern European accent: "Is that you're dinner? Baby need more food."

A patient, who not minutes before was lying in her ER bed moaning and groaning incoherently, says loud enough to my co-worker so I can hear at my cubicle: "Is somebody working on a new somebody?" (Is that supposed to mean something?)

From across the cafeteria, "Jessy! You're huge!" (So, far, I'm only 24 weeks, with nearly 4 more months of growing, but ya know, apparently, already huge.) "Thanks Roberto, that's what every pregnant woman wants to hear."

And multiple times, this happens:

"When are you due?" I tell them. "Whoa, really?" (trying to hide their obvious surprise.) "Wow, you still have a ways to go, huh."

"Are you sure there aren't twins in there?"

"Are you having twins?"

"Twins, right?"

"You're not due till when?"

"You've got how many months?"

"Lemme guess? Twins?"

I'm sure the comments will keep coming as this baby keeps growing with, yes, 4 more months to go because as I now know, the baby bump gives people the courage to say things that they wouldn't dream of saying to anyone else.