M put on an episode of Veggie Tales that we’d recently DVR-ed for PJ to watch earlier today. If you haven’t seen it yet, do so. It’s a kid’s show with humor that appeals to immature adults (like M and me) and manages to poke fun at itself as well. Anyway, this was the episode with one of Larry’s Silly Songs, “Barbara Manatee.” Catchy tune. Unfortunately. The rest of the day, both M and I have broken out in new renditions of the chorus. Our current favorite is “Kayce Manatee” (with my real name instead, of course).
It’s only funny because lately the running joke is that I feel like a beached whale when I lie down or try to roll over in bed. We’ve also called me a sea cow, so a manatee is just a short jump from there. It cracks me up that we can both joke about my size and ungainliness with no hard feelings, despite the pregnancy hormones.
That said, my size and ungainliness are certainly more noticeable now. My hip pain (round ligament pain, according to the doctor) causes me to waddle ridiculously when I first stand up, so I look like a stereotypical preggie. Actually, I look like a third-trimester, about-to-pop preggie. I don’t know how I’ll walk in another three months, if I even make it that far.
At the same time, I watch my belly jump on its own in wonder and coo softly to the little baby inside and revel in the miracle of being pregnant. How can I enjoy something so much that has caused me so much pain and suffering already? I’m really going to miss being pregnant when it’s over, despite the nausea, headaches, worry, joint pain, heartburn, and other discomforts.