I finally have a name for the pain I’ve been calling “getting kicked in the crotch”. It’s Symphysis pubic dysfunction (SPD) and apparently it’s fairly common. Unfortunately this article doesn’t offer any ideas on how to STOP the pain besides giving birth. At least during labor you get an epidural, I’ve just had to deal with the SPD for the last four months. E has stopped paying attention when I moan and complain, even when I threaten to kick him in the crotch so he can experience what I’ve been going through. I know it’s been said before, but if MEN were responsible for carrying the future of our species, the human race would have been doomed. Most dudes wouldn’t last 9 weeks pregnant, let alone 9 months.

I met a local photographer for a maternity photo shoot today. We spent about 90 minutes trying different outfits and poses, and I think the results are going to be great. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do this because 99% of the time I hate how I look in photos. Never have I seen a recent photo of myself and thought “Oh, I look so nice!” But when I look at older photos I am almost always pleasantly surprised. No matter how stupid or fat I thought I looked at the time, the magic of a photograph is remembering the moment it was taken instead of reexamining my double chin or stupid haircut. What better moment to capture than pregnancy? Besides, my belly is cute and stretchmark-free, my hair is shiny, and my skin is clear and kind of glow-y. I spent the whole morning repeating positive thoughts over and over in my head – about how growing a baby is a beautiful and natural thing, how my body is doing a great job, and how despite my insecurities and flaws I should celebrate my womanhood. It sounds super cheesy and only kind of worked but Tracy (the photographer) was very nice and great about putting me at ease. Plus with fancy lighting and a little Photoshop magic, these might end up being some of the best photos of me every taken.

When I go back to pick up my CD of images next week, I’m hoping E can come along for a few extra pictures. A pre-family portrait, if you will. I’ll definitely share the pics when I get them so you can all admire my glorious womanhood while silently thanking God you are not 36 weeks pregnant.

Last week I decided I deserved a little present, so I ordered myself a pair of boots and a pair of flat silver sandals from Piperlime. My 20% coupon combined with free shipping seemed like the perfect opportunity to treat myself. I’ve been SO EXCITED to get these shoes, since most of my shopping recently has been for giant tubes of diaper rash cream or industrial sized maxi pads. The UPS guy just dropped off my box.

Unfortunately, I won’t be wearing either pair anytime soon. The boots won’t zip over my GIANT ANKLES and the two feet of snow on the ground doesn’t make for very good sandal weather. Plus I can’t even reach my heels to pull them on. Why did I think buying shoes was a good idea?!

Maybe they didn’t used to be, but now that they’re online, a registry becomes a constant source of obsession and worry. I’m always checking mine to see what’s on sale, what’s out of stock, what I need to order, what might be discontinued…and what people have bought. It’s terrible of me to ruin the surprise like that, but with a million things to buy it’s nice to know what I DON’T have to save up for. I actually shouted for joy today when I saw someone had bought the super cute high chair I wanted. Bless you, friend or family member, and I’ll write you a lovely thank you note once I know who you are.

The real problem with registries is that they’re mostly useless. There’s no polite way to tell people where to shop. Some of your friends and family live no where near a Target or a Babies R Us (hard to believe, but possible). Many things are “online only” but the shipping costs are almost as much as the actual stuff. Plus buying things off a list takes a lot of the joy out of spending an afternoon squeeing over tiny socks and brightly colored rattles. Who wants to buy a changing pad or a pack of spit-up cloths?

The worst part is I feel greedy and selfish. One of the reasons we waited to have a baby was so we could afford to provide all the crap that comes with them. It seems ridiculous that people are expected to buy gifts just because I’ve (almost) managed to reproduce. Whoopee, we figured out how all the parts go together, now open your wallets! Ugh, no. All I really need is people to tell me I don’t look so bad and my baby is sure to be adorable and I’ll love them forever. But to be fair, if any of my friends want to throw a Sex and the City-style “I’m NOT Having a Baby Shower”, I promise I will buy you a $50 bottle of booze to celebrate. I’ll even wrap it in pastel alphabet block paper.

My spring post was a little premature, seeing as how it’s currently snowing. That doesn’t change the fact that with Baby Evan is due April 1st, I’ve only got 1 month to go. That makes me 9 months pregnant and exempt from all social constructs and obligations, including but not limited to: wearing pants, not talking about bodily fluids in mixed company, being patient with the woman writing a check in the express lane at the grocery store, tolerating drunk people, eating at normal times, hanging out with people I don’t really like, shaving my legs, and cooking. Please excuse me in advance.