In the military world, the kind of week that I have had is often referred to as a Charlie Foxtrot. From what I understand, the phrase is representative of a crude terminology befitting military men and not ladies, especially the expectant kind. So, suffice it to say, it’s code word for “big fat mess.”
I can’t blame pregnancy for my snafus of this week, but I can tell you that being pregnant has a unique way of compounding the stress of an already-crummy situation. Need a for instance? I’ve got a million of ‘em, but in the interest of my sanity (and your time), I’ll share just one.
A few days ago, I realized that the tags on my vehicle were nearing the end of their natural life. So, I did what any responsible individual would do and made plans to renew my registration. I gathered all the materials I would need to transfer my registration from Alabama (where I lived previously) to Georgia and prepared to head to the licensing office a whole six days early. (*Note to the REALLY responsible folks out there: Please refrain from asking why this wasn’t done months ago when I moved to the state … unless, of course, you would like me to reach through your computer screen and give you a big ol’ smackeroo. And, I don’t mean a kiss.)
As I weeded through all my car documents—including receipts for oil changes ranging back to when I bought the vehicle in 2008—it dawned on me that I hadn’t seen my title since that year. Having moved a few times since then, I knew there was little hope of locating it. But, just in case, I spent five hours turning my apartment upside down. At the end of the five hours, not only had I not found the title but was dangerously close to losing my sanity—and I hear that’s even harder to recover than a lost title.
To make a long story short (too late, I know), we have to wait for a replacement title to arrive from Alabama before we can complete our Georgia registration. And, because our other vehicle is also out of commission—threatening to asphyxiate us with noxious fumes anytime the engine is running—we will be immobile for at least two weeks, at best.
Is it the end of the world? Hardly, but that day it sure felt like it. To salve my soul, I did what any normal pregnant lady would do: I ate milk and cookies. Instant relief! It was then that I realized that it had been quite awhile since I had taken any time to recharge.
I’m not a fan of the term “me time,” due to the narcissistic undertones, but that day I realized the importance of taking a few minutes to quiet your mind and indulge a little, especially when you’re expecting. Loads of studies prove that a mother’s stress has a direct impact on a growing baby. In other words, if I’m stressed out, Jacob is, too. If taking time to read my Bible, soak in a bathtub or veg out to an I Love Lucy rerun will help me produce a happier and healthier baby, I’m so there. (Maybe this pregnancy thing isn’t so tough, after all!)
The world doesn’t stop when you get pregnant, which, by the way, I would like to put up for a vote the next time The Powers That Be decide on the Rules of the Universe. The everyday stresses will continue to come, but it’s important to put them in perspective for the sake of you and your little one. Dedicate a few minutes each day to refocus on what’s really important, let the stress go and maybe eat some milk and cookies, too.
And, speaking of cookies, I think it’s about time I go take some of my own advice …