We have a private family blog we use to keep our out of town (i.e, everyone) relatives in the loop with pictures and more personal, admittedly mundane, details of our daily lives with peanut. This weekend, I took a trip down memory lane and revisited the posts I wrote in the last month of peanut’s pregnancy.
Man, was I seriously that girl? You know, the one who just loves being pregnant and even admits to aspects that she’ll actually miss? Ick. I was. I apologize to all pregnant women out there, because I have seen the light that it’s not always sweethearts and roses.
During peanut’s pregnancy, I had the awful 15 weeks of constant nausea, hyper-sensitive gag reflex, the oh-I-just-wish-I’d-throw-up-already-instead-of-always-feeling-like-I’m-going-to first trimester. After that, it was really smooth sailing. I think I even glowed. *Sigh*
This time around, the exhaustion had me done in during the first trimester, but the nausea was minimal, lasted only a week or so and was easily managed. I think this third trimester is making up for it. The round ligament pain kicked in about three weeks ago and, at times, makes every step painful. Turning over in bed isn’t just difficult, it’s downright excruciating as I try to use what’s left of my pelvic muscles and those damn useless ligaments to turn over. Sure, I’m carrying so low I can actually breathe this pregnancy, but as a trade-off, I’m peeing ALL. THE. TIME. I can count on one hand how many nights that I have NOT gone to the bathroom in the last 36 weeks.
My temper is short, my patience limited, my energy waning. I’m not sure how much of it is the added physical demands of chasing a three-year-old as opposed to sitting at a desk all day where standing for an hour-long presentation once or twice a week and checking the mail were the most physically taxing activities I tackled versus just a different pregnancy.
I call it pregnancy purgatory – and I think it must be that way for all women after their first pregnancy. The first time around the pregnancy is all a mystery. It’s new and fresh. Scary and exciting. Every new sensation or kick feels like you’re being marked a mother. The arrival of this new creature seems so intimidating, it almost seems safer inside.
But this time? I am so aware that the payoff is better than the preamble. Of course I enjoy the hiccups and the shifts and shimmies, I know I’m a lucky gal to have had two relatively uneventful pregnancies and honestly do realize that my discomforts are minor compared to what some women go through for their children.
But I’m still counting down the days. Counting down to delivery. Counting down to meeting this new little man of mine. Counting down until I can introduce peanut to his baby brother and see my two sons together in the flesh. Counting down until our family of four is safely ensconced in the cocoon of those early, sleepless newborn days when time is topsy turvy and we’re all getting to know one another.
27 days to go.
Unless he’s late.