First, you should know that I did not know I was pregnant the second time until I was five months in. I am the otherwise intelligent person that you all wonder about. How did I not know? I conceived at the same time that I took a new job that had a huge learning curve. In a fast-food joint. So: I was exhausted, cranky, bloated, forgetful, gaining weight, no periods, insanely bad heartburn. I figured it was the job. I have gone years without having a period, so it set off no red flags for me to miss a cycle or eight. My feet swelled, but I was suddenly on them fourteen hours every day instead of eight every other day and eating nothing unsalted. Prevacid was created by a full pantheon specifically for me, so the nausea and heartburn meant that I was stressed. Or, you know, halfway through my second trimester. Whatever. Point is, I had plenty of reason to think it wasn't pregnancy, and so I did.
So now that we have established that I generally have very little idea what's going on in my ladyparts, I am paranoid. Crazy paranoid. Ten pregnancy tests a month paranoid. All of them are negative, BUT: My lower back is achy. My stomach is bloaty and protruding more than is its wont. I could eat an entire loaf of bread and still find room for a box of mac and cheese. My fucking ovaries, which I think that maybe I can feel right now, are workout sore. This has been happening not once a month, but more than once, since I've had littlest in February. Every time I get cramps, I feel like I'm in labor again.
I think that I do not like this human body thing, and I would appreciate it if someone could just go ahead and invent the Matrix for me so that I can live life without ever actually having to deal with an actual physical thing.