Aside from the weekend when I actually found out that I was pregnant, this past Monday was single handedly the most emotional day I’ve survived during this pregnancy.
It all began when I awoke around three or four in the morning to the – hands down – worst dream I’ve experienced in at least a decade. And when I say experienced, I mean experienced. I didn’t just have this dream; I didn’t just have a nightmare. I WAS my own worst nightmare. Being visually sensitive (mentioned in Perhaps I Should Have Warned Donovan), I have disciplined myself to avoid disturbing imagery, for I know that it will haunt the recesses of my mind for years.
But there was no getting away from this one. The damage was done. I could still feel the sensations and hear the noises and my very core was shaken to jello. My heart cried out to God, “Why did I have to see that?!” as I tried to fall back asleep.
About two hours later I was awoken by Brian punching me in the forehead. Apparently he was also having a restless night of sleep and his sleepy fist flew my way. I shouted, “Brian! You just hit me in the head!” Brian, still half asleep, replied, “I did!? I’m sorry. I had a dream that I was fighting bullies.”
Once we were both really awake, I recounted my dream to my husband. He was alarmed in that he’s never seen me cry over a dream before. Though he tried to comfort me with hugs, I explained that I’m Italian and need to be comforted with breakfast, not hugs. Then I snuggled with Esther for a good long time until I spotted a flea. And another. And then another.
Whisking her into the tub and giving her the most thorough bath of her life, we tallied 12 fleas and a tick! EEK!
Shortly thereafter I needed to make two appointments. First priority: a chiropractic adjustment for my still-in-pain back. Second priority: to have a bug bite checked out. Being that I had flashed this pic on Facebook with the hopes to have some helpful insight, I knew that I’d be carried off to Urgent Care by my friends and family if I didn’t act on this fast enough.
So, yeah, the chiropractic adjustment felt fabulous. It always does. It did not, however, make a dent in my back pain. Same ol’, same ol’.
On my way to the second appointment that was clear across town, unfortunately I had time to recap the dream and ended up crying my way there. The good news is that the doctor is almost 100% positive that I did not have a tick bite (Lymes disease is rampant around here), but that I probably just had some nonthreatening bug bite.
To recap: by about noon, the best part of my day was the news that I probably won’t get Lymes disease.
But there was one more errand to run. (And, yes, I had time to cry my way there, too.) I was picking up a Starbucks food donation for our church’s food bank. Being that it was lunch time, the shopping center was a tad congested. Regardless, I tried to park as close as possible to the entrance considering that I’m usually lugging out one or two full bins of baked goods to take to my car.
You know those parking situations where you have to park to the right because the parking spaces are diagonal? No? Well, I drew a picture on the back of an index card just in case:
You see that free spot in front of Starbucks? Yeah. That’s where 4 1/2 month Pregnant Square Piece was just about to turn until she looked up and noticed a man in front of her staring at her from the opposite lane with his turn signal on. That’s right, he had staked his claim to the spot with his blinker and was prepared to do one of those awkward, V-shaped, probably-should-be-illegal turns in order to fit into the parking space from the opposite lane of traffic.
Considering the fact that I JUST POSTED about parking situations, you won’t be shocked to learn that I totally, internally LOST MY EVER-LOVING MIND.
You see, I let him have my parking spot. Then I had to park so far away that I couldn’t even see Starbucks. Considering my emotional state prompted by the worst nightmare of my life, being punched in the head, removing enemy fleas and ticks off my precious hound, having an unsuccessful-’cause-I’m-still-in-pain chiropractic visit and knowing that I’d likely be lugging heavy bins back to my car in my 22nd week of pregnancy… Well, Square Piece lost her religion for a minute.
Not being one to normally confront strangers (but choosing to seethe and judge them with contempt and silence), you would have expected the usual from me. And on a good, sunny day, where perhaps I hadn’t been more pleasantly awoken with a punch in the head than a nightmare, I might not have even noticed the parking situation. But Monday? Well, on Monday I lost all sight of myself and hustled into Starbucks ready to confront the man who rules the world with his turn signal.
He wasn’t even AT Starbucks. I believe that he parked there in order to walk to another place of business. And it’s just as well. I probably would have just started crying (like I did a few hours later in the grocery store when I tried to tell Momma about my dream… and like I did last night when I tried to tell a few friends about it… but at least it made them cry, too).
So I’m not blogging this because I’m bummed out or want to bum you out. In hind sight, the series of events actually makes me laugh because it was so pathetic. It’s important to me that I remember this day. Because if that’s the worst day that I’ve had in 4 1/2 months, then I’m doing allllllll right, right? I mean, if my worst day is that I probably don’t have Lymes disease, then praise the Lord! A little walk to Starbucks didn’t kill me. Esther is now comfy and bug free.
Sometimes what feels like the worst day ever is just an excellent reminder of how GOOD I really and truly DO have it.