I'm Fine...Really...Just Fine

BACKSTORY: I'm unhappy with our current form of b/c and am in search of a solution.

ME TO URBAN DAD: So...um...perhaps there's an option that might involve...you?

TRANSLATION: I've gone through two pregnancies now. And since biology demands that so that we could have those little angels currently sleeping in their beds, I was fine with that.

I was fine with not being able to stand the sight or smell of food, with resting my face in my hands between classes in a vain attempt to get a moment of rest, and with the utterly all-consuming exhaustion that is the first trimester.

I was fine with muscles, tendons and skin stretching over the next several months and all of the aches and itchiness that came with that. And with watching my belly inflate until I could no longer see my shoes. In fact, I was was even fine with having to put my foot up on a bench in order to tie my shoe. And I thank you kindly for always reaching down to untie them for me when we got home.

I was fine with constantly having to go the the bathroom. In fact, I was even fine with feeling like a brick had been parked on my bladder and learning where every single bathroom in the city of Chicago is located.

I was fine with complete strangers -- and even my students -- fondling my stomach and asking the same set of enormously personal questions.

I was fine with having to bunch every pillow in the house around me in order to sleep at night. And with living on Jamba Juice during the third summer-time trimester with Urban Kid 1. I was fine with having to hoist myself out of bed and off of furniture and feeling like Jabba the Hutt finally trying to move.

I was fine with getting large needles injected into my spine in order to get the sweet relief of the epidurals. And I was fine with every single employee at Northwestern Hospital coming in and having a look at my hoo-hah. Eventually, I was fine with having stitches in my hoo-hah and gratefully wearing ice packs in the fashionable hospital underwear while watching the clock until I could pop more ibuprofen. I was fine with having nothing to watch in my room but football when Urban Kid 2 was born on New Year's Eve -- and I can't stand football.

I was fine with nursing the little munchkins at all hours of the day and night and everywhere in Chicago, St. Louis, Colorado and a great many points in-between.

Now it's your turn to make a physical sacrifice for a few days. Get on board, buddy. I did my part.

Snip Snip.

Luckily for everyone involved, Urban Dad speaks Val-ese and did not need a translation. His doctor's appointment is next week to ask about how he can, um, contribute to the solution.

Bless his........ heart.