My sweet rutabaga

According to the internet Miss Vivian weighs about the same as an average rutabaga.  Not exactly something you want to curl up next to so I'll keep my own images of her development in my head.


I had my first emotional meltdown on Friday night.  Spencer and I were watching TV before he was to head to the gym and I just started bawling.  He asked me what was wrong and I gave him a response which was sure to reassure him that I'm crazy, "I don't know".  I think I had realized how big I really was that day.  Now that I'm wearing maternity pants that fit snugly under my boobies I need to make sure I take a double look at myself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.  I apparently tucked not only my shirt but my sweater into the back of my pants and since the back of my pants reach all the way to the top of my bra everyone at my office got quite a kick out of it before someone said something.  It's more humiliating knowing that other people saw you and said nothing rather than someone saying something right away.  I was also up to this point still trying to wear my pre-pregnancy bras.  After my nipple popped out three times during the day because my knockers were trying to make a break for it I realized I was indeed pregnant and growing at an alarming rate.  To top it all off all my co-workers gathered in the conference room to celebrate my boss's birthday and as I'm eating my cupcake people are barely touching theirs talking about all the weight they are losing and what diets they are on and there I am blowing up like a balloon. 

Poor Spencer was defenseless to my inconsolable tears.  He just did what anyone loving husband would do, he called my mom and made me talk to her.  Probably best because he knows no matter what he says I'll find a way to twist his words and become more irrational.

After eating a double dip ice cream cone and buying some new, much larger, bras I was feeling better.  I just need to relax and remember my little rutabaga will be here before I know it.