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List of Awesome Things About Being Pregnant

Not that I particularly want to make this list, and not that I particularly care if anyone ever reads it, but I feel like I should write these things down so that I can officially and accurately blame Hurricane for them one day when I hand him/her the bill of the expense of raising him/her.

1. Pregnancy is a legitimate excuse for absolutely everything that is wrong with me.  When I say, “legitimate,” I mean it actually is the reason why everything is wrong with me.  See continued list below for clarification.  It is very convenient to be able to say, “I’m sorry I did that.  I’m really dumb right now because I am pregnant.”

2. My calcium is depleted thanks to sweet little one developing it’s guts and bones and stuff, so when my foot rolled while dancing with kindergarteners on Wednesday, it ripped my foot enough that I have to wear a cast-boot thing for a few weeks.

3. I throw up.  Regularly.  Sometimes, I’ll be in the middle of singing, and I’ll have to stop, step into the hallway, and ask a teacher who is “fortunate” enough to be walking by to please watch my class so I can go puke.  The students find this highly entertaining.

4.  I am a bloodhound.  I’ve always had a particularly keen sense of smell.  Perhaps this is God making up for my nearly-legally-blindness and my poor hearing abilities.  Usually, the keen sense of smell has provided annoying.  Now, it is downright obnoxious.  Take, for example, the fact that half of my students come to my windowless room from PE.  This has been a regular complaint of mine – probably enough that the other teachers are like, “Enough already, they’re stinking up our rooms all day long, you only have them for 25 minutes, shut it.” which is perfectly valid.  But seriously, have you ever smelled a fourth grader who just literally ran as fast as he or she could for 25 minutes without stopping?  Not pretty.  Multiply times 26 and put them all together in a black hole and you’ve got my life everyday.  I’ve taken to spraying my hand with Febreze and rubbing it under my nose so that it is all I can smell.  It’s probably toxic.

5.  It is very hot, all the time, and when I feel hot, I feel like I am going to die.

6.  When children are sweet, I want to cry.  When children are mean, I want to punch my piano.  When children get good grades and understand concepts, I want to cry.  When children are loud, I want to punch my piano.  Basically, my whole day consists of switching back and forth between wanting to cry and wanting to punch my piano.

7.  When I get home, I am so exhausted that I plop on the couch and have an extremely difficult time getting myself back up off it.

8.  At home, if there are dirty dishes left for more than 2 hours, and I smell them, or if there are leftovers that I see in the fridge (even if they are perfectly good leftovers), or if the trash hasn’t been taken out in 10 minutes, or if someone passes gas, or if…okay, anything basically, I gag so loud that it sounds ridiculously fake.  I don’t usually vomit at home – apparently that is saved only for school hours.

9.  When I wear regular pants, my belly is smushed, because even though it isn’t possible for me to be showing yet, I am bloated up like a balloon.  I’ve had several sweet little darlings say, “You don’t look very pregnant yet, but it is definitely true that you’re having a baby.”  Thanks guys.  Thanks.

10.  This one is not sarcastic – I have about 50 kids each day say, “How’s the baby doing?”  So, so, so darling.

11.  I have to drink about 14 bottles of water every day.  I can’t drink out of water bottles that can be washed because they smell weird.  Seriously? It’s nuts.  I’ve always been high maintenance, but this is getting a little out of hand.

12.  Things I want to eat: burgers, fried anything, meat, chicken wings, pie, pizza, burgers again, fries, ice cream, fat, fat, fat, fat

13.  Things I regret eating after eating them: everything on above list except ice cream, which I could never regret. And pie.

14.  Caffeine makes me act like a nut job.  I squiggle.  I literally squiggle.  I didn’t know people could squiggle until I drank caffeine while pregnant.

15.  Headaches for no apparent reason, even when I have been sure to drink 14 bottles of water that day.

16.  Excuse to spend money on really cute things!!!!

17.  Pregnancy brain is real, folks.  I have a wonderful inability to say intelligent words.  I so often words my get up mixed. Or I say things that I shouldn’t say.  Filter = bye-bye!

18.  Love. I feel nutty amounts of love for the things I’ve always been fond of.  For those that know me well already, this proves hilarious because I’ve always been passionate about everything that I’ve loved.  Now, it’s multiplied times a million, and if people insult the things that I love, I turn into Mama Bear.  Mama Bear is fierce.  Don’t mess with Mama Bear.  She kill you.

19.  Anxiousness about absolutely everything, even when I assure myself and spend time praying for contentment and peace.  I’m FREAKING OUT ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!

20.  The strange peace that follows the freak outs.  Everything is going to be wonderful, and beautiful, and I will take this list and another list this size if it means that I’ll get to hold that little creature in my arms and watch/help it turn into a (hopefully) productive member of society.

PS When I think about “The Help” and I remember the poop pie (whoops, should have said SPOILER ALERT), I totally…yep, just gagged trying to type it.

Dear Baby Hurricane (Week 13),

You have certainly already started a hurricane in our hearts as we try to figure out how we could love something so much that we haven’t even met yet. We wonder who you’ll be. We have already started dreaming about who we think you’ll become. We think you’ll fit your name really well – you’ll be a fierce storm, protective of those that you love and passionate for the things you believe. I think you’ll be as stubborn and strong as me. I think you’ll have Daddy’s sense of adventure and fun. I hope you’ll have Grandpa Kneezel’s brains, Uncle Matt’s sense of humor, Popsicle’s musical talent, Grammy’s willingness to serve, Grandma Kneezel’s huge heart, Aunt Andrea’s kindness and compassion, and, most important to me, Aunt Carol’s passion for the Lord (and her eyesight, please, please, Lord). On a sillier note, I hope you have Daddy’s tan skin, Mommy’s hair color, and Uncle Matthew and Great-Granddaddy’s eyes. I hope you have Daddy’s long legs and someone’s athleticism (because I sure don’t have that and I can’t think of who does. Maybe Aunt Andrea?). Oh, and my feet (not really my feet necessarily, just NOT Daddy’s or Grandpa Kneezel’s).

Of course, we don’t want you to feel any pressure to be perfect, and we will love you enormously regardless of who you become.

I hope you find things to love. I hope the things you love are the best things. I hope you are brave. I hope you are careful.

It’s terrifying, little Hurricane, to think of all the changes the tiny storm will bring our lives, but already, we can’t imagine our lives without you. I’m sure you’ll run like a maniac through the house destroying everything you can reach in about two years. I am confident in this because I have heard stories about how your Daddy acted when he was a little kid, and I am seeing your cousin Sam do those things right now. I bet you’ll have a lot of spunk and tell us “no” an awful lot. I bet you’ll be disappointed in all the times we tell you “no.” I bet you and me will get in some pretty big “will-wars.” Don’t worry, I will win.

I just want you to know that I’m planning to change all of your diapers, even the ones that make me puke. I’m planning to clean up all of your puke. I’m planning to feed you as often as you need it. I am not looking forward to potty training you at all, but I will do it. I’m sure you’ll follow the Hamrick family bed-wetting tradition (sigh). I will teach you how to read and how to sing and how to dance and which ones are fingers and which ones are toes. I’m planning to spend lots and lots of money to make your life comfortable. But it is up to you whether you will be happy or not.

There is one other thing. Daddy and I are praying for you. So are Grandma and Grandpa Kneezel and Grammy and Popsicle and Uncle Matt and Aunt Carol and Uncle Andrew and Uncle Aaron and Aunt Andrea and about a million other people who love you. We are praying that we can show you the Lord in all that we do. We are praying that when you see us fail, you will understand sin a little better. We are praying that when you see us forgive you, you will understand what Christ did a little better. We are praying that our choices will plant a seed that the Lord will harvest, and you will become His child.

Daddy and I are so excited to hold you in our arms and keep you safe and warm. We want you to know that we will be putting you in your own bed, though, not in ours. Don’t even get your hopes up. We are excited to introduce you to wonderful things like Olive Garden and the Cubs (Daddy and absolutely everybody else in the family says Cardinals, but we’ll see) and MUSIC! Oh, I cannot wait to introduce you to music. In fact, I’ve already started. Daddy and I know that no matter who you are what you love or who you become, you will definitely be a most beautiful storm.