(A model’s rendition of Dr. Heeringa and her beloved compression stockings. Also please note, these beauties are available in men’s sizes, too!)
My Darling, C.S.,
You are in my heart always, and on my lower body most of the time. I have such affection for you, as you keep my cankles at bay and help me stay energized and less exhausted throughout the day. You help remind the blood in my body to return to my brain instead of just hanging around in my lower legs, as it tends to do during the blessed miracle of pregnancy.
Not to nitpick, but you are also very terrible. Putting you on in the morning is like trying to put the toothpaste back INTO the tube. It takes Cirque du Suleil-like maneuvers to get you on. There is much grunting and sweating and muttering of ‘sausage casings’ under my breath…which is labored.
Sometimes my partner rushes in thinking I’m IN labor with all the racket, but no, I say. I’m just trying to prevent swelling and varicose veins. I’m following my doctor’s orders for a healthy pregnancy. Grumble grumble.
If my partner dares to make any joke or to be anything but extremely sympathetic, there is talk of how useful these stockings are as a murder weapon and how surely the police would understand.
But, alas, my dear C.S., even though you make me look like a tan Humpty Dumpty and getting out of you to pee (every 15 minutes, emiright, ladies??) is pretty much impossible, I do feel better when I wear you and I do know that long-term I will be so glad you were with me during my pregnancy. (That does not mean I will not destroy you the very second this gorgeous baby is out of me.)
All my love (and hate),
Dr. Heeringa (and pregnant ladies everywhere)