Silver linings

Because we refuse to sit around being morose, and also because we’ve been encouraged to find every possible silver lining in the situation, I’ve started mentally calculating the good things about being extremely unpregnant. All of them are superficial and don’t carry much weight, and most of them are food-related, but I figure I’ll take what I can get. Here are just a few:

1. Sushi. In fact, we ate sushi for dinner on Tuesday, when neither of us was remotely hungry or in a positive frame of mind, but by god it was there and it was going to be eaten because, well, I could eat it again.

2. Clear skin.

3. No more bloating.

4. No more horrible hormonal taste in my mouth that made all food, particularly anything containing sugar, taste like dookie.

5. Vegetables. I spent the past two months having a violently nauseous reaction to fruits and vegetables, so I am genuinely enjoying eating them. Fiber! Vitamins! God, I’m old.

6. The simplicity of lunch now that I can eat lunch meats again.

7. I can go to my company’s holiday party tonight and partake of the open bar.

8. The ability to exercise without feeling like I’m going to pass out after 20 minutes.

9. Hot yoga.

10. Boobs that don’t hurt whenever they’re hit by a passing breeze.

I am very serious about the boob thing. You’d think that an inflated chest would be a big plus (especially for a small person like me), but it’s a lot less of an amenity when the stupid things hurt so much. Like, hurt when you soap up in the shower, much less try to have any fun with them.

This made me laugh (thank you Dennis!)

I am really glad to be back at work today. One thing I gleaned over the last two months was how calming it was to be in the moment, because really there wasn’t any point in fearing the future or trying to speed up time. One of the weirdest things was knowing that, no matter what I ate, how many vitamins I took, or which activities I avoided, I had absolutely no control over what was going to happen. So I am making a very mindful effort to stay as anchored in the present as I can, if only because there are so many little things to be happy about. And, strangely, I know that one day I will be psyched to once again not be able to eat sushi, vegetables, or lunch meat, to be bloated and zitty and toting painful boobs, and to be exhausted to the point of falling over. Everyone kept telling me that all the misery was worth it. At the time I wanted to hit them but now I think I understand.