One more thing…

So I haven’t posted jack-my-mamma-crap on this blog. I’m a terrible baby house. I was all excited about having a place to share my thoughts through this experience and what I have found is that this experience has left me with monosyllabic responses to most things… “Ms. Forty, how are you feeling?” “Uh, good?” “Ms. Forty, have you picked out a name?” “Uh, we call it baby.” “Ms. Forty, you look tired.” “Uh, fuck you.” “Ms. Forty, you fell asleep on the couch again, would you like to go to our bed?” “Uh, bats are in the tub and I have no checks.” (It’s best not to wake me up and expect anything logical to ensue). Still with the tired, made more tired by a month that would make an Olympic athlete tired, I look back and realize I’ve been all over the place (literally). Critter flew more this month than I did in my first three years.  He even went to Panama this month – which I will get to in a moment and I’m sure this post will never be reposted by the Panamanian Tourism Authority, not that I really care. Work has been overwhelming. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I’m too exhausted most of the time to get excited about what I’m doing. Which is a shame, because on paper, my job has utterly kicked ass this month. I’ve traveled abroad, I’ve met interesting people, I’ve launched huge initiatives, I’ve taken naps under my desk… Everybody keeps telling me that I’ll get more energy now that I’m in my second trimester. I’m rocking week 16 and this avocado inside me is not producing any energy. I hate to say it, but I still would smack a bitch for a nap. Which makes me sound terribly redundant, which is probably why I’m not posting much. I mean for fuck’s sake, one can only read about tired pregnant lady for so long… So here are some things that have happened that have nothing to do with being tired: During my trip to Panama, the Mayor of our town came with us. He was pleased when I told him I was personally making more Democrats for our voter base. That was a nice moment. Several times I realized I was the only one who was aware what was going on at work this month and the fact that I was also making life officially made me a superhero. Panama is a country I never wish to visit again under any circumstances and maybe it’s because I was pregnant but seriously, I’m over that place. They do have a kick ass ceviche. I’m probably not supposed to eat ceviche, but you know what, I’m also probably not supposed to spend days dealing with uncooperative Panamanians who don’t do anything they say they’re going to do either. During dinner one night I realized my only status at the table was that I was pregnant. This was confusing and disheartening as I am used to contributing significant insight and observations in my industry. Now I have been reduced to, “When are you going to have another one?” That is a really horrible question on so many levels, I have no idea where to begin. But you entertain all sorts of horrible questions when you’re pregnant and you endure people (even people you like) touching you, so you know, you roll with it. Turns out, when you tell a table...