Yesterday I had an official prenatal massage, which was great, but it feels like the universe decided I wasn’t stressed enough to deserve a massage and had to make up for it.

Work frustrations – I’m the only person who knows how to do certain things with our software, and despite writing documentation and suggesting people start poking around (the same way I learned) and trying to figure things out while I’m still around to answer questions, I still get emailed requests that make it clear that they haven’t so much as looked first. This has been making me irrationally, CAPS LOCK style, angry, and I’ve started to wonder if I’m going to get panicked calls asking for help after I’m gone.

Traffic frustrations – not worth mentioning except that it added to the feeling.

At home, I dropped an entire pint of good strawberries in the parking lot. The container opened, and every single one rolled in the dirt and oil and who knows what on the pavement.

Then once I thought my massage had made the day better, I got an email from my doula saying she had to back out, and giving me the names of her backups who are just as or more expensive than her. We were already stretching the budget, but it felt right when I chose her. Thankfully my second choice is still available, and I’m just hoping this turns out to be one of those “meant to be” situations that works out better in the end.

I also waiting too long to sign up for birth classes – because so much of the pregnancy was me being afraid to plan lest I tempt fate, and then suddenly there were too many things to do and not enough time – and wasn’t able to get into one of the Lamaze classes which focuses more on natural birth. My former doula mentioned going over pain management techniques which I was looking forward to because I don’t have full faith in our current class. We’ve only been to the first class of seven, but so far it just feels like regurgitated information I already have. I don’t have a lot of faith in people who blindly quote the pregnancy norms (“don’t eat sushi”) without backup, and I was disappointed at how she glossed over the more controversial subjects, like vaccinations and circumcision, leaving people who are undecided on those to fend for themselves on the Internet drama-fest those topics always are.

Finally, my baby shower had to be rescheduled, even though invites have already been sent out. Although with that being possible, I feel better about the whole thing – another one of those “meant to be” situations, except for the tragedy partially responsible for it.

I’m feeling overwhelmed by ALL THE THINGS, and when I think I have them taken care of, by not having any “things” to be working on at the moment.

This afternoon I was sitting on the apartment steps watching Merlin explore around the hallway. He doesn’t venture much beyond our floor, unlike Morgan, who runs immediately up or downstairs as soon as she gets out. (What’s extra cute is if I don’t follow, she stops halfway meowing at me like, “well are you coming or what?”)

When they were younger I tried to convince the cats that getting out was a Very Bad Thing, on par with climbing into the oven, because if both doors of the apartment building “airlock” happened to be open, and they were able to get out for real, they could be lost. However they don’t have any interest in the real outside world, and run back in if they hear any hint of a door or another person. I also tried to teach them that hallway time was a privilege of being on the harness, but that still doesn’t make them like the harness any more or try to run out the any door less.

I realized that if Merlin could talk, and asked why he wasn’t allowed to do what he was doing just then, I wouldn’t have a good answer beyond, “Because I said so.” So I propped the door open, sat on the steps, and watched, thinking this must be a preview into my future parenting style.

I found a perfect example of a company that needs the services of my imaginary company I came up with years ago – the one made up of people with dirty or otherwise weird minds who points out how things can be misinterpreted. They sell baby shoes and refer to them as “angel baby shoes”.

Every mention of “angel baby” I’ve seen before, on my baby forums, is referring to a baby who’s died either before or shortly after being born. I had to do a double-take and make sure that yes, they’re just advertising regular shoes “for your little angel”.

It reminds me of how when I first started on the fertility forums, I was surprised how many women were excited about their “rainbow babies,” thinking it was surprising so many were expecting and hoping their babies would turn out to be gay.