The title is intended to off put. If you are a guy or not into birthing and all that, you'll have a better time reading another post. How about Mad Max Land? You might like that more.
This is a different pregnancy than my other pregnancies. It's different as I'm sure all pregnancies are different from one another – babies are clearly unique little beings right from the get-go. Boo moves differently than my other two did. My bladder, for example? His favorite stomping ground! That little guy is a mover, on par with in-utero Moxie.
My body is different. It's bigger, it's older, it's more stretched out, perhaps. With this pregnancy, I've felt intense pain in my lady parts. INTENSE, excruciating pain. My OB says it's normal (right along with that incontinence!), it's normal, normal, normal – have more than one kid? It's all more painful and just… blah. I guess maybe I'm sort of comforted knowing I'm "normal", but then again, I'm not because I just want this pain to go away and I'd like to sneeze without holding my parts like a 3 year old that needs to go pee.
As my friend Meredith says, "oh, the indignity".
The pain – it gets awful at night, so bad I can barely move to turn in bed. I prop myself up with a million pillows, one under my back, one between my legs, another under a thrust out leg, more wedged around just so I don't slip or anything. And don't you know it – and as soon as I'm finally sort of comfortable, I have to go to the bathroom and so, painfully, slowly, I extract myself from my nest, turn the pregnant "3-pointer" and crawl off on down the loft bed. On repeat. All night.
Meanwhile: my belly. I am HUGE. I think I now resemble the offspring of a whale who mated with a slug. I am HUGE. I saw photos of myself the other day and just sobbed. I'm so big that I wonder how on earth I'm going to grow more?! I mean, I have about TWO WHOLE MORE MONTHS!
After that sob fest (and believe me: it was a sob fest: I was lying down, crying the big huge heaving kind of sobs, My One True Darling was desperately trying to think of the "right" thing to say, but really, I don't think it's possible for a guy to know what the right thing to say is in moments like that), I made a commitment to myself to put more energy into self-care. I went to pre-natal yoga. It's bliss over there, a room full of women with round bellies and just as hormonal as me. Awesome!
Signed myself up for my very first pre-natal massage. I will get my toenails down, hair too while I'm at it. I have got to do this; I have TWO WHOLE MORE MONTHS. I'm going to go bat-shit crazy with hormones and depression if I don't act now to take care of me.
Moving brisking right along, come 7 o'clock and there is a whole lot of this at our place:
Wild children. Beached Mama. Inner dread of putting the kids in their bath, brushing teeth and putting them to bed. It's one of those horrible catch-22's. I dread it so I procrastinate. Then finally, I have no choice but by that time, I'm even more tired plus they're tired (tired kids! fun!) and it's just a ball of whack. Nights are good when Mikey's around to help, or better yet, just do it all and let me go to bed.
Having kids makes it harder but it's also direct encouragement.
I really like my kids.
I enjoy their company.
Watching them play and stuff… makes me so happy.
Reminds me that it's all worth it. 9 months of roller coaster discomfort in exchange for a little person.
Yeah, yeah. I can do it.
I can do it.
Two more months.