I've spent much of the past 10 months studying my way through my first year of my Master's degree, and it's almost sucked my life dry. I've been challenged to the nth degree and have faced many bang-my-head-against-the-wall moments, writing papers, exams, group projects, questioning my very existence between this rock and that hard place.
Although my first-year classes finished last weekend, and I'm almost over this academic Matterhorn, save for four papers to write between now and July 22nd, I'm finding my challenges have only yet begun.
I'm pregnant.
Yes, a shock for you, but if only I could have Instagram'ed my stark realization of my apparent disbelief could you truly appreciate the shock value it held for me.
If you knew me, you'd know I'm all about logistics: how things get done, when, how long, who, what, where, when, how....you get the drill. Like a seasoned army general, I plan for the expected and the unexpected, forging my blueprints for appropriateness, completeness, finesse....
....this wasn't in the plan.
And before you barrage me with the whole "did you use protection?" debate, may I comment that this is a moot point, considering that I/we don't remember the what/where/when. (Frankly, it's unfortunate, seeing we may have actually had a great time with the "how", but I guess that's what happens when priorities lie elsewhere.)
So, out goes the plan on losing the extra 15 lbs that snuck up on me on my Freshman-15. Much of my time now is preoccupied with deciding if I'm nauseous because of eating too much or eating too little. My 9-week belly is growing at such a supernatural rate, I may be forced to blow my cover sooner than later, at the risk of being called bloated or, gasp, fat. (Who am I kidding: I'm already there. Ugh.)
Baby #3 (or affectionately referred to as, Better-Be-A-Girl by hubby) is definitely going to rock my world for the next few months. Going to class on weekends, completing coursework, going to work full-time, two kids + one, if you include hubby, all while completing a thesis, nursing/pumping/insomnia, etc, etc....
While challenging, I find myself blessed to have found myself in this situation. Actually, I find it slightly humourous, though perhaps this laughing gas I'm breathing will eventually wear off and I'll find myself needing oxygen instead. Until then, I'll keep chuckling away to keep my spirits up, shaking my head in disbelief to this cockamamie brick wall I keep running into.
Damn logistics. Good thing this ain't a real war.
Posts
