Sometimes it feels like my life is falling apart. Other times, it just feels like the stuff I need to live my life is falling apart.
Like Saturday, when I had a lovely trip to the zoo with my family and friends, and came out to find my windshield broken by a stray golf ball. And by "stray," I mean it was irresponsibly driven across two lanes of traffic, a superwide ramp down to a parking garage, and the fences/nets put up by the golf course—oh wait! there weren't any!—into the car we traded down to to get rid of our car payment. You know, because we need that money for the baby we're expecting in about two months.
I would've loved a "golf course nearby" sign. Or maybe even three feet of fence over the parking lot wall that would have saved me from this whole problem. Instead I got a nasty windshield replacement bill, and a lesson to purchase a lower deductible plan for my auto glass, because I have zero control over what happens to it.
And Sunday I got Finley's cold. It took him a solid 3-4 days of fever to start showing symptoms, but it hit me like an unwelcome golf ball when in the morning I woke up with a massive headache, sore throat, crapped out sinuses, and a really tough time speaking. I figured a couple of days would see me through the worst of it, and by Tuesday I really felt awesome for my 30-week check up (all is well, baby is good, and even a very on-time delivery is starting to loom close enough to make detailed plans for).
Naturally after the doctor's appointment high, my cold fell right back into place. Super. So that second thing I need to live my life, that is a face I can breathe through, is totally broken too.
Then, at 11:30 PM tonight, when my very average sized husband threw himself exhausted onto the bed, the bed riser broke. And it scraped the crap out of our bed leg. AND it somehow pulled a screw out of the bed and discombobulated the entire corner support. Unfortunately since most of the storage in our house is under that bed, and it's not exactly bed-riser season at Wal-mart, I had to use my superhuman pregnancy strength to recombobulate the bed corner and find the exact right old textbooks to prop up the bed leg so we could at least sleep for the night.
Here's my crossed fingers and toes hoping it doesn't collapse again before we can get it more permanently fixed.
My windshield, my face, my bed—this is starting to seem like either a really weird dream or a set of nasty omens. Or on the other (and more likely) hand, it probably seems that way because of the congestion-interrupted sleep I've been getting (and not getting).
But fortunately, the thing that isn't falling apart is my happy little fetus and her well-sealed home. My stretch marks are definitely growing, but the fantasy of an eventual tummy tuck is enough to comfort me (who knows if that will actually happen). By biggest pregnancy worry is VBAC or repeat CS (yes, they do both suck), and that's simply fantastic. Also fantastic is having the strength and ability to walk around for hours, play with my son, and occasionally have a night out with the hubs. Some things might be falling apart, but I, for once, am not.