If You Can’t Give Us Wine, Give Us Grace

There are so many pros to being 8 months pregnant...

Hold on...I have to think of some...

Surely there are pros...

Ah yes. A shorter amount of time until that cute little baby arrives, no more morning sickness (if you are one of the lucky ones!), and getting to use the "New and Expectant Mother" parking spot without feeling guilty or having to mention to all the onlookers that you are, in fact, pregnant. By 8 months, they all know!

Of course, there are a few cons as well. Constant heartburn, no sleep, back pain, contractions (real or not, they are NOT comfortable), and what seems like a crazy influx of hormones. Over the past week I can't even count how many times I have gone from sadness and tears, to extreme rage, to giddiness, and then right back to tears. It's laughable, almost, unless you are someone who gets in our way.

On Sunday we hosted a small Superbowl party at our house. I spent the morning cleaning the house and then planned on going to the grocery store around lunchtime. Now, when I say cleaning the house, what that translates into is doing the dishes, cleaning the bunny cage, and scrubbing one of our three bathrooms. By the end of those three things my back was already starting to hurt and I decided that if I was going to make it through the entire day I was going to have to take a break. So, I bribed the kids with McDonalds, bribed Jason with a smoothie from our favorite smoothie place, and we set off to eat and go to the grocery store.

Now, the grocery store that is nearest my home is probably the worst one in the area. It is small, there are NEVER enough employees, and the employees that they do have aren't always the most well versed in customer service. However, it is close to my house, and it is familiar, so I continue to go, week after week.

I had a list and was determined to make the shopping experience quick and painless. I loaded Tripp and Easton into the cart, directed Jason to steer, and began piling items in. About halfway through the trip I decided that Jason wasn't going fast enough with the cart, so I took over.

Let me tell you, pushing a full cart through the small aisles of Schnucks with two, half-my-size children inside is no easy task. It is especially not easy at 8 months pregnant when you can't squeeze through small spaces anymore and intense rage is building up inside of you. I digress.

When we finally made it to the checkout line I could barely stand up straight. Tripp and Easton had decided to get out of the cart and were touching everything in sight.

"Can I have this?" "No." "Why?" "Because I said so." "Well can I have this then?" "No." "Why?". Was the way the conversation was going.

I started to unload the cart onto the conveyor belt. When I was about half way through the cashier decided to send her bagger over to another lane to start ringing other people out. That irritated me, but was something I could ignore.

Then it hit me. I was stuck. I was standing at the front of the cart with half the cart unloaded and had no way of getting to the other side to unload the remaining items. The groceries were piling up in the bagging area (but there was no bagger) and the cashier was running out of things to scan. I HAD TO GET TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CART! Jason tried to be reasonable and told me that if I moved the cart up, he could start bagging and I could get through. He could see the fire burning in my eyes at this point and wanted to save some poor soul (possibly him) from the wrath that was surely coming.

"No!" I said, loudly... "This is ridiculous...I will just squeeze through and do this MYSELF."

Now, imagine a crazed animal, caught between two rocks and trying to escape a predator. Imagine the way the animal's body might contort and move in order to get where it wants to go. Imagine the sounds it might make. Imagine the look in its eyes as it desperately tries to squeeze through the small space to get to freedom on the other side.

Now imagine a grown woman acting in the exact same way.

That was me.

I finally got to the other side and started slamming the remaining items on the conveyor belt.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

The cashier looked at me and said...

"Dare I ask how YOUR day is going?"

I didn't know what to do. Should I reach over the counter and rip her hair out of her head? Should I just glare at her until my eyes burned a hole through her skull? Should I school her with a slew of smart ass comments, in order to make her PAY for the words that had just come out of her mouth? My mind was racing.

And then- it got worse.

Jason. My dear husband. My partner in crime. My protector.

LAUGHED. OUT. LOUD.

I looked at him. I looked at her.

I busted out crying. I cried and cried and cried. I cried because I was embarrassed. But there was more.

You see, I knew the way I was behaving was irrational. I knew that my emotions were getting the best of me. I knew that a reasonable, level headed person would not have karate chopped her way to the back of her cart in the psychotic fashion that I had.

But the thing is- I couldn't help it. I was fed up. I hadn't slept well in weeks, my back hurt, walking hurt, my whole body was slowly swelling up like an oompa loompa, and the flow of crazy could not be stopped. I was trying to keep it all together while also trying to go on with normal person activities...such as grocery shopping, parenting, and being a respectful human being. It was a recipe for disaster.

Look. I am not saying that the way I acted was...normal...but as an open comment to anyone crossing paths with a pregnant woman at the end of her pregnancy- please, for the love, give her some grace.

Growing a human is hard work. Growing a human while also taking care of other little humans is hard work. We know we can be emotional. We know we can be unreasonable. Don't point it out to us. We feel bad enough as it is. There is not one pregnant person in the history of pregnant people that has gone their entire pregnancy without doing something rash or emotionally driven. I promise we are good people. I promise we are kind. Just give us grace. Since you can't give us wine, give us grace.

Until next time,

XOXO

Aly