If you happen to be struggling with controlling your emotions, and you carry a deep and abiding hope that when you become a mom it will help your wounded heart heal as you create a safe and happy life for this new little person, I recommend not watching the movie Waitress.

If, however, you are a normal person, you should run right out and watch this movie today.

We watched it last night and, while I normally would have just gotten misty eyed, instead I found myself going on an hour long (literally) crying jag and hyperventilating until Bear finally just had to put me to bed.

Over time I’ve learned that there are certain movies that just push my button too much and I can’t be counted on to behave rationally after watching them. Any (good, touching, well-made) movie where a downtrodden woman rises up and reclaims her life with the help of those she loves are sure to get me weepy (Like The Color Purple or Forrest Gump, not a Lifetime Movie Network movie). Movies about sisters (like Sense and Sensibility or The Color Purple, again) also need to be avoided, but movies that show the redeeming power of motherhood are the biggies. Bear can always tell when I’m having a bad day because I’ll be watching the movie adaptation of the Roald Dahl book Matilda (it always seems to be playing on cable somewhere) just to torture myself and have a good cry.

Matilda is the holy grail of weepfests for me because it taps directly into what I long for the most. A smart, talented little girl, whose parents don’t understand or support her, discovers her inner strength, conquers the bad guys, and then is adopted by a woman who adores her. I used to read that book as a kid and dream of finding magic powers I could use to change what made me unhappy about my own life. Now I’m grown and I’ve done all the work to get over what I was unhappy about back then, but for years I’ve felt like the last step to getting over my sad little childhood was to create a wonderful childhood for my own kids. At the end of the movie the narrator says something like, “And as bad as things were before, that’s how good things were now.” Which is always, always, when I go into the ugly cry.

Last night as I was hysterically (hah! Literally!) crying, and poor Bear was doing all he could to stifle his laughter (which he was not very successful at) I just kept saying this one line from the movie. I don’t want to spoil it, so I can’t say which one, but it just perfectly summed up everything I’m hoping for with my own little sprout.

By the way, we go in on Tuesday to try to see what kind of a sprout this kid is going to be. Lucky for me this is happening at Christmas time, so I’m so busy going out of my mind with Christmas prep that I can’t go out of my mind waiting for the ultrasound.

Also, we’ve finally come up with a name for this kid. Not a real person name, just something to call it instead of “The Kid.” After Bookcase didn’t end up sticking around, we kind of lost the heart to get attached until we passed the danger zone, and once we passed the danger zone we couldn’t think of anything to call it, so we kept racking our brains. Bear started threatening to call it Cletus the Fetus, so we had to come up with something, quick.

I think I’ve mentioned before that our family motto is, “Go Team Edmunds!” It’s so cheesy and hilarious to us, but we mean it, too. When Bear had to go in for his state boards, “Go Team Edmunds!”. When I bust out a super productive day and finish another house project, “Go Team Edmunds!”. When a surprise bonus check comes in the mail just in time for Christmas, “Go Team Edmunds!”. Anyway, in light of that, until the kid pops out and gets its real name, we’re calling it The Rookie.

I think it’s safe to say that pregnancy is kicking my butt.

I naively hoped that, since for the rest of my life my health has been so ridiculously crappy, maybe I’d get to be one of those women who just blossom in pregnancy. The kind that glow, and feel great, and are just a magnificent example of womanhood.

What was I thinking? I have not been able to get off the couch for the past month. When I wasn’t so nauseous the room was spinning, I have been having stabbing sciatica pain. Just trying to make it to the bathroom I have to hunch over and waddle with my legs so far apart that the kid might just fall out one day. And then lose my breath at how much each step hurts.

Bear has also not quite grown into the role like I would have expected. He takes such great care of me normally, that I always thought once I got pregnant he would go into hyperdrive and not allow me to move a muscle. That one hasn’t come true either. I think he’s either in denial because we’re still a couple weeks away from completely out of the woods, or since I’m in that “I don’t look pregnant yet I’m just putting on weight for the long winter” phase, maybe he just forgets. At any rate, the other day I made him go to the store for pickles and chocolate covered pretzels (because for some strange reason they don’t make chocolate covered pickles so I had to improvise) and he totally threw a pouty fit. You would have thought he was the one with the hormonal surges.

Which reminds me. Oh the shame of it. I am a person who is pragmatic to a fault. I am logical and unsentimental, and now I seem to have lost all sense of self. The other day I had a huge weepy breakdown, complete with gasping for air and not being able to speak, because I was worried about loving my cats less once the baby came. I was sobbing and asking, “What is going to become of them? *sob sob* Where will she sleep if she can’t spoon me in the bed? *sob sob* Cheetara won’t understand that I still love her! I’m going to be a terrible mother!” Bear wisely covered his face with his pillow to muffle the laughter.

Worst of all, all work on the house came to a screeching stop. Bear works long hours, and then he has to come home and try to find something to rustle up for dinner that I might be able to swallow without gagging. I may be cranky, but even I can’t seem to say, “Hurry up and finish those dinner dishes, would ya? You’re losing daylight and you’ve got to get those bedroom baseboards sanded. Now fetch me a drink while I watch Grey’s Anatomy.” We’re still working on painting the master suite, we’ve got a bathroom half stripped of wallpaper, stair railing half painted, and kitchen cabinets that are covered in paint swatches while one lonely little cabinet face shows off it’s fresh primer. And the room that will be the nursery is currently painted with two neon green walls and two electric blue walls. In semi-gloss.

I’ve read that once you cross over into second trimester territory, then suddenly you become productive again. I’ve got fifteen days and counting.