I know. I should be joyous. I am creating life. I am the closest thing there is to a goddess. I am a godess. No, I am a Godess.
I am also so hot. I am so freaking warm that my AC is at 20 Celsius. If I weren’t this pregnant I would be obsessively turning it up, claiming it was too cold for comfort. That is how scorching I am.
I am so warm I drink coconut water and kambucha and water and feel like I am not drinking at all because I am bloated and uncomfortable and my eyes are turning smaller and smaller due to both things (and the fact that I feel like crying a lot). The only real effects all this liquid has on me is that I am running to the bathroom much more (as if my bladder didn’t look like an undignified tortilla already!)
I am so broiling that I wake up at night thinking I may have cooked my husband.
I am so, so, so, so uncomfortable in my present temperature that whenever I step outside of any AC restricted area my uterus feels like it is time to practice some Braxton Hicks contractions. For real.
So it is a combination of really small things which are making my life not as joyful and happy as it should be. I am bloated and hot, my feet are swollen (and with plantar fascitis), my sciatica is a constant companion, and I get contractions whenever I am outside; a 10 minute walk takes me almost half an hour. Which makes my searing body and overall uncomfortableness even worse.
But I am making a life inside me. So joy to the godess who wants to live in the shower.
Joy to the forgetting hormone I will have in a few months when the baby dragon is outside the womb.
I am a Goddess, a very sweaty one, but nonetheless the movement inside my belly is not just very decadent gas, it is a tiny human.
(and in the background I can hear Mungo Jerry… In the summertime when the weather is hot…)