You see me at work, I am the epitome of cool. I'm laughing, smiling, reading books, being a smart ass, cracking wise with everybody, making jokes and making people laugh, talking casually about movies and television shows and countless piles of pointless crap. I seem calm, cool, and focused. Hell, this morning I called work and told them I was going to be late because I was having rickshaw troubles and the manager just laughed and said ok. Things are fine.
But inside I am freaking the fuck out.
The countdown is on. I have seven days of work left until I take a month and a half off so that my wife and I can have this baby. That is, unless my wife goes into labor sometime between now and September 10th, which is my last day at work. My wife is going to wait to go into labor naturally, then she's getting a c-section which is destined to push me to the very edge of what I can handle. I am not one for graphic images of violence, so watching my wife get cut open isn't something I'm excited about watching.
My wife is her usual self. She's sometimes angry, sometimes giddy, sometimes cuddly, sometimes worried. Me? I'm a nervous wreck. My entire body is sore. I'm having trouble moving my arms too much. I'm having serious breathing problems and I mean serious. I'm taking breathing treatments every night just to be able to breathe in and out. The treatments leave me shaking worse than Michael J. Fox for about an hour or two. My right hand is aching like fire sometimes, so I have to wear my carpal tunnel arm brace at work now, which is incredibly uncomfortable. I'm hardly eating anything, which isn't anything new seeing as how I have an eating disorder. I'm tired all the time despite all the coffee and Rockstar that I've been inhaling. So basically I'm a wreck. I'm worried and frightened and nervous. I want to sleep. I want to be able to breathe properly. I want to move and not hurt. I want to feel good again.
But it's not all bad. I'm excited, too. I can't wait. I'm so nervous and anxious. I just can't believe that I'm having a baby!
GVWA Deviance results are incredibly late. But it's MY fake wrestling federation, so you bitches can wait.
And happy birthday to my very special Marisa.