Irrational at (almost) every turn

You know those days when you wake up and just know it's going to be a bad day?  Mine started with a dream that took place at my office around Christmas time.  All of my friends were there and it was snowing and it was wonderful!  Then somehow the scenery changed and I was in the middle of a field experiencing some sort of Jurassic Park horror movie.  Only there were no dinosaurs - just these invisible monsters who snatched people and ate them.  Before long there were only a few of us left in a bunker manning a makeshift triage station while waiting for the inevitable moment when the meager lock on the door and crumbling ceiling panels would no longer hold the terror at bay.

That's when I woke up and for the next 15 minutes sang Jesus songs in the shower while I tried to calm myself down.  Then I drove myself to my 8:15 am Dermatology appointment only to find out it was really at 8:50 am.  Once inside, I reminded my doctor why I was there (he asked me to come back for a mole removal once the morning sickness subsided) and he said that there was really no reason for me to have my mole removed because they "don't remove moles for the sake of removing moles."  To which I replied in my most no-nonsense voice, "Based on our conversation at my last appointment I was under the impression that you felt it was better to remove it and have it tested NOW rather than wait."  To which he replied, "Well, I suppose it is an irregular shape..."  Alright, who's the doctor here?  Because you sir, are not instilling a lot of confidence in your medical opinion OR decision making skills.

Then the nurse (who I'm sure is a very nice person and good at her job but I'm just not feelin' it with her either) asks me how far along I am and that she didn't even realize I was pregnant because I was so tiny.  This innocent and well meaning statement accomplished two very different things simultaneously.  1) Made me angry that she would think that I take care of my body in a way that results in a pronounced beer belly and serious cleavage.  Concluding that I'm a lazy, beer-chugging, Dorito-eating "woo girl"  And 2) made me ashamed because if I don't look pregnant, I'm obviously not eating enough, thus depriving my child of life sustaining nutrients.  Concluding that I am (and will be) a bad mother.

So anyway, the "doctor" did his thing with the knife, the nurse slapped a band-aid on it, tossed some antibiotic ointment packets and a care instruction sheet on the counter and they both walked out the door with hardly a "have a good day."  Guess who's finding a new dermatologist?

Cut to Target, where I tried and failed to find the correct type of ointment and bandages for my gash.  While there, I bumped into an acquaintance from church.  He's also a former student of Matt's and married one of our other former students so we've done the Young Married Bible Study thing with them and kept in touch a little over the last few years.  He was being really nice and asking if he could help me find anything, if I had the day off, how was I feeling, etc.  But bless his heart, I just wasn't in the mood.

At this point I feel I need to clarify something with those that might think I'm pretty much the worst person on the planet: while I understand that people love me and are concerned for me and the baby's well being, I'm just plain tired of answering the question, "How are you feeling?"  I'm not going to tell most people what I'm really feeling so I'm left with "I feel good!" (feel free to fill in any variation of "good" that indicates a general feeling of wellness).  I'm sure many of you can appreciate that I'm not going to say, "You know, I've been really constipated lately" because that's too much information.  And "I have the acne of a 17 year old boy!" doesn't need to be said because it's pretty obvious that it's a problem.  But EVERY WEEK the same people ask me the same question hoping (?) that they'll get a different answer as if it's any of their business.  Family, my best friends - I'm cool with telling them some of the details of what's happening in the world of Jackie and Baby.  But for the uninitiated, even the basic "I'm uncomfortable" won't cut it because I'm only 5 months along - it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better!  Inevitably, Joe Public will probably point that very fact out to me and I don't need Joe Public to remind me of that much in the same way Joe Public doesn't need me to slap him up side the head

Back at Target, I tried to be nice and carry on a pleasant conversation with him but I think I gave mostly one-word answers and looked more interested in finding those little round band-aids than I did in talking to my friend.  Before long, he gave up and left; which I'm not sorry to say, was fine with me because then I was free to go home, eat, pee, and have a good cry.