The burping and nose bleeds aren't enjoyable, but besides being embarrassed because I giggle every time I burp (I've never been ABLE to burp before so now I find it highly amusing) I can deal with these little annoyances.
What I can absolutely NOT fathom is my newly found extreme stupidity. Extreme. Sure, I've complained of "pregnancy brain" -- the forgetfulness that comes with having a baby (and which leads my husband to tell me that the baby is sucking my brain) but I had an experience this Sunday that later led me to wonder if perhaps Baby E really IS sucking my brain, and will I have any brains left to work with after she is born?!
Chances are not good. Because on Sunday morning, I woke up in a fog and rolled over (ungracefully -- got that big ol' belly, remember?) in bed to ask my husband "What is today's date?" to which he told me it was December 28 and I realized I had forgotten my Dad's birthday the day before (December 27). FORGOTTEN. I felt awful. I felt like an ingrate. My father is such a doting, caring and loving guy, and I had just basically wiped my feet with his special day. I spent the morning mentally head slapping myself and generally feeling like I was the scum of the Earth. But it didn't end there.
As the whole Edelbrock clan loads up in the car to head to church, Ben announces in the car that I've forgotten my father's birthday (okay, maybe he didn't "announce" or "point fingers" but at that point in my guilt-ridden morning I was fairly certain that he had just told my in-laws that I was the worst daughter on the face of the planet). And with that, the guilt multiplied because not only was I a bad person, but people KNEW I was a bad person now.
And to top things off, when we get to church the priest starts talking about the theme of that Sunday which was family, and how important family was and I swear in less than 30 seconds I had tears ROLLING DOWN MY FACE. Pair extreme guilt with pregnancy hormones and a normal person doesn't have a chance -- Hell, SUPERWOMAN wouldn't have a chance.
I was a wreck.
But as I slowly pulled myself together, the TINY part of my brain that hasn't been taken over by the baby started to struggle with why I was upset. Because that TINY part that can still think rational thoughts is reminding me that I've never been in town to celebrate my Dad's birthday with him over the Christmas break. And that is because my Dad's birthday isn't on December 27 at all.
Let me repeat that.
My Dad's birthday is 100% NOT on December 27, but on December 29, the NEXT day. I had NOT missed my Dad's birthday.
I HAD however, been completely and utterly convinced that his big day was on the 27th. Despite 28 years of knowing this date the EXTREME STUPIDITY of pregnancy made me absolutely SURE that his birthday had been the day before and I had missed it. And in turn, my husband's ENTIRE FAMILY would soon know that I was suffering from extreme stupidity.
So I did what any self-respecting person would do and willed myself to forget what I had just realized. I sat through church quietly, praying for God to return my brains and didn't tell Ben what I had realized until about SIX hours later when we had driven back to Dallas and he was pestering me to call my father. I tried to make it into a big joke "Isn't this funny Ben?" but he just looked at me sideways and turned back to the basketball game, which made it pretty clear that this episode had surpassed pregnancy brain in a BIG way.
So joy to the third trimester and all it brings us this New Year.
My week 28 picture from Sunday night. I also had a doctor appointment this morning, although besides gaining an unheard of EIGHT pounds in four weeks it was fairly routine -- she called me a fatty (albeit nicely), suggested I eat more veggies and less pie, and sent me on my way.