I can definitely feel my anxiety rising. I don’t even feel like I want to say anything too loudly, I just want to fade into the floor for this entire coming week. Everything is going so well, we’re both so healthy… I just want to say shhhh, don’t jinx it. Don’t say a word. Just hold my breath until I get to 36 weeks.

::

I think the anxiety is putting more on edge than usual – more on edge than even hormones can really explain (although hormones explain an awful lot).

Yesterday was a fantastic example. I worked a crazy, busy morning until noon. My lower back was aching, but I knew I had very little food left in the fridge. So I went grocery shopping. Of course I forgot stuff, but I got the basics. I get home and was very relieved that Denis was home, he could bring in the groceries so I could put them away.

Now by this point – end of the week, busy day, not sleeping well – I was nearly falling over tired. It was all I could do to keep one foot in front of the other and I knew damn well that if I sat down I was done for, that was it for the day. And I needed to get the damn groceries put away before I could collapse. So I walk in and ask Den to bring in the groceries. He was watching something on TV so said, “Sure, just let me finish watching this.” Which NORMALLY is fine. NORMALLY doesn’t bother me (much). But, as I said, I was swaying on my feet and the thought of staying awake for another 15 minutes was upsetting me.

In the kitchen there was dishes in the sink, so I cleaned those. The floor was dirty, so I swept. Then I thought, fuck this, and laid down on the bed. But my back was aching. All I wanted to do was take a nap, and I couldn’t even do that! I went to take a bath… and the bathroom had a couple things out of place – okay, so I lost my temper and totally chucked a book into the hallway with a thump. By then Den had noticed that something wasn’t quite right with me. He got the groceries in, then came to check on me – and found me sitting naked in the bathtub, eyes red, nose running, sobbing pathetically as I slumped over my big belly in the water. Oh, yes, it was most certainly pathetic. And even as I sat there I was thinking, There is no good reason for this! But I felt like an overtired two year old who skipped a nap: I’m tired physically, I’m tired emotionally, and I just need to have a tantrum for no good reason.

I didn’t even end up taking a nap. I had my bath, and then chilled in my recliner for a couple of hours in silence (the recliner was working far better for my back than laying on my side). After that I felt much, much better and even found the energy to do a little bit more nesting. I apparently just needed a meltdown and then some downtime to recharge my batteries.

::

For the most part I marvel at the similarities in my two pregnancies, in how familiar this feels. I’m carrying pretty much the same; they both were head down well before 30 weeks; they both liked the right side of my ribs with their little feetsies; my boobs did not grow to insane proportions… and so on. But there are certain ailments that I am getting this time that I did not have last time, such as the horrific heartburn keeping me up all night. And now…. cankles.

I guess it was just one of those things that I figured other people get that I don’t. Maybe I’d get some swelling right near my due date, I thought…. maybe. But naively, I kept telling myself that it wasn’t going to happen to me. So yesterday morning when I woke up and was trying to swing myself out of bed I happened to catch a glance at my ankle and frowned at it. Didn’t I use to have more actual ankle? Wasn’t I bonier before? It looks… puffy. Shit.

Last night while I was having my sob-fest in the bathtub I lifted my leg out of the water and decided: yes, they are definitely turning into cankles. While Den was kneeling beside me, listening to me sob about nothing of any consequence, I ended by lifting that leg back out of the water and whining in the most childish voice ever, “And I have cankles!” He looked down at my foot, then back up at my face. “Oh honey, they’re just swollen.” I moaned, “That’s what cankles ARE!” And then he started laughing, which started me laughing, and suddenly it all just seemed funny as hell.

Note that my feet aren’t swollen – just from the ankle up to my knee. The whole calf area, basically. Not helping, I’m sure, is my sock addiction. I like funky, colorful socks, and I’m also a wee bit obsessive about where they fall on my leg: my socks must be pulled up as far as they will go, typically hitting mid-calf. They are not allowed to sag down either, which means they’re pretty tight. Yeah, so tonight when I pulled off my socks for bed I gasped at the deep indent they left in my calf. They have always left a small mark from the elastic, but this was something else entirely. Yikes. I’m not sure what to do about this, because like I said, I cannot stand slouchy socks, and I can’t wear sandals to work. Other than drinking more water and attempting to put my feet up a little bit more, of course.