Yes, it’s true. Lest you had doubted my pregnant state it was confirmed to me last weekend. The weekend I have been anticipating for months. The Friday I was to spend 24 blissful hours completely by myself. Well, more like 18 hours but hey, solitude is solitude. And not like I was counting anyway, right? OK, truth be told it would’ve actually been only 17.5 hours.
The camping trip was my mother-in-law’s idea during Easter dinner. That same woman who hates camping and hasn’t done it in 20 years. But she was looking for a family bonding activity and figured this would be a great one.
As many of you know, I am an outdoor aficionado but camping at 36 weeks pregnant is not my idea of fun. Aside from the uncomfortable sleeping conditions (which I could overlook), my bigger issue was my potty breaks. These days, I do my sleep-walking-pee trek to the bathroom every 1.5 hours. This is not an exaggeration. It’s no wonder I’m always exhausted. And doing that to the outhouse in the middle of the night is a living nightmare.
But I was fully supportive of everyone else going. In fact, I became pretty dang obsessed with it. A whole night to myself? I haven’t had that in years. And so I plotted my little retreat: I’d rent some of the best chick flicks out there and would finally archive my stacks of Haddie pics into a photo album, something I’ve been dying to do prior to Junior’s arrival.
Welp, there’ve been some hiccups this week as my MIL has threatened to cancel over some relatively minor issues that have arisen. But then came The Granddaddy today. After weeks of record-breaking 90- and 100-degree temps, it rained. Rained. ON MY RETREAT DAY. After many prayers, the conditions cleared but not before my MIL called the whole thing off. She claimed she called up to the campground and rain was in the forecast.
“That’s ridiculous!” I desperately exclaimed. “It’s totally cleared and it’ll be beautiful tomorrow.” But she already had the support of the other fair-weather family members. Those same people I used to like. “You guys can come over for a BBQ tonight,” she offered. I must have responded as pissy as I felt when I said thanks but no thanks. I knew I was being irrational but my disappointment was palpable. Any thoughts of a break before having the baby were over.
But then to have Jamie call up a couple of hours later to inform me he and Haddie were sleeping over at his parent’s house. That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed for the second time that day. “It defeats the point of my entire retreat if I’m overcome by guilt on the matter.”
And so they went over for a BBQ but only Jamie returned home later. Against my wishes, he claimed he “accidentally” forgot Hadley over there. Hmph. Yes, I was being irrational. But they didn’t have to be so nice about it. After all, IF I AM TO FEEL SORRY FOR MYSELF, IT’LL BE ON MY OWN SELFISH TERMS. Don’t throw the guilt factor into it.
In the end, it turned out just fine. I finished my album, slept in until a whopping 7 a.m. and we worked on Junior’s room for much of the day. Oh, and Jamie let me go on a Super Target shopping spree. Anything to appease the pregnant lady’s meltdowns. Hormones? What hormones?
P.S. All sympathy mail can be sent to Hunkyhubby@survivingthehormones.com
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 