And I have just hit a BRICK WALL.
This pregnancy has required more endurance than the last one, both mentally and physically. For one thing, last time I wasn't waking multiple times in the night to tend to fevers brought on by the third ear infection of the season. Or lugging a 22-pound toddler on TOP of the 20-ish pregnancy pounds I'm carrying to date. (Not to mention the 10-12 el bees I saved from my pregnancy with Max. You know, as a KEEPSAKE). And as someone who just happens to be entering the back half of her thirties about this time next week, let me tell you: I feel every MINUTE of that missed sleep. Every OUNCE of extra weight.
Max must sense the usurpation afoot, because lately he has turned into a big, hungry ball of need (or, into a 17-month old. Which is kinda the same thing). Specifically, the need to be picked up and carried. By mama. ALL. THE. TIME. Even Jack, usually a pretty independent guy, has been a little more hands-on as of late. And is it my imagination, or does "Ace" dial up the punching and thrusting whenever one of the other boys comes near?
Let's just say that if John Mayer were to write a song about me, he'd call it "Your body is a BLOODY TURF WAR."
People, I'm exhausted.
I injest medication every eight hours to keep the blinding migraines at bay and my blood pressure a notch below the red zone. I plunge needles into my bruised beach ball of a belly every day. I can't climb a flight of stairs without catching my breath and I burst into tears when we're out of milk. It's been nearly 100 degrees here for a week and I'm certain I'm 10 degrees hotter than ANYONE else. My back hurts, my skin aches, and did I mention I'm waddling?
UGH. I'm SO done.
Except I'm not.
Even if I deliver this kiddo a full month early, like Max, I still have 50 days to go.
FIFTY DAYS.
And I don't see how I'll do it.
I utterly and completely feel your pain. This is my first baby at 36, and I'm dying here. I commend you for hauling around a 22 pound kiddo! It took me two years to get pregnant, 40 pounds gained from fertility drugs, cervical surgery, and a ton of stress on my body. I have 8 weeks to go, and I don't know how I could possibly get any bigger. My back is killing me, I can't sleep, I have a severe cold, and its been 100 degrees for weeks now. Not to mention the weekly "Advanced Maternal Age" doctor appointments, and someone plucking blood from my arm every other week to make sure I don't have the pregnancy induced disease of the week. AND, I plan on doing this all over again next fall...balls :/
ReplyDeleteWould you like me to pay you a visit and put you on bed rest (since i have pretty much been your bad omen for the rest of your pregnancies!?) ;-) Bed rest is sounding kind of good, no? Don't let your mom or Ben read this post - they might kill me!
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