Just Call me Stay-Puff in the Morning, Baby

Yesterday I woke up puffy. I knew it was going to be a super-awesome pregnant day when I put my bare feet on the ground over the edge of my bed and it felt like I had squeezed them into a pair of too-tight shoes. I instinctively made fists and felt that familiar chubbiness of my fingertips being not quite able to curl all the way in to the bottom half of my fingers. The day before, I was fine – this is an overnight thing with me. I had gained 2 pounds since I went to bed, and since I am not a sleepwalker, I knew that the water retention had finally made its appearance. I had little rings around my ankles by 10:00 a.m., and by lunch time I was huffing and puffing to get all my extra self up to the top of the parking garage.

Then, miracle of miracles, I woke up this morning and it was all gone. It’s like maybe the universe decided that since I was FINALLY feeling good in my pregnant body and not believing that every day was just 24 hours closer to some kind pregnancy disaster it needed to send that little warning shot over my ramparts. Like “Hey there – don’t get all cocky and think you can just be a normal pregnant chick. Remember how your dysfunctional body doesn’t do this right? Yeah, it’s still like that.”

So, I’ve taken off my rings and retired my high-heels for the duration, but I’m trying to believe that this was just a one-day thing. I have gone over and over what I did and what I ate the day before, though, and there just aren’t any salt binges or over-exertions to explain it away. I did eat a couple extra pieces of chocolate, so I guess I’ll blame them. Nestle’s, you are officially uninvited from my baby shower. Don’t tell Ghiradelli, she’s still on the list. It’s just the cheap ones that make you sick, right?