I always imagined that I’d be one of those perfectly happy pregnant women skipping through fields of daisies, following every pregnancy guideline to a T, and planning the ultimate natural birth experience.
The reality is that there is no way in hell I can skip, unless you count my reasonably fast-paced waddle to the bathroom as skipping. There is also no way in hell I can consume the proper amount of ANYTHING throughout the day. Not enough protein. Not enough vegetables. BARELY enough water. Finally, I am too freaking busy to even sign up for the series of birth classes the hospital recommends, let alone give any time to hypnobirthing or anything else. It will be a miracle if I have ANY idea what’s happening to my body at any given stage of labor, and considering my lack of any sort of tolerance for the searing pelvic pain I’ve been having, it appears that I will likely be crying for an epidural before I’m even out of the car.
And you know what? I’m okay with that. I really am. I have spent months trying to convince myself that I like being pregnant, but I actually DESPISE it. The only thing pregnancy really had going for it (besides the baby at the end, which is the whole point and which I will NEVER ever complain about) were the adorable baby wiggles and thumps, but now that she’s nuzzled herself sideways as tight and low into my pelvis as she can possibly get, even her movement is uncomfortable. These days, she likes to tuck herself against my hip bones and then STRETCH as hard and as far as she possibly can in a move that gives me some understanding of what it’s like to be a walnut in a nutcracker, only in reverse.
This morning, I was annoyed by her hiccups. Seriously. Mother of the year right here folks. I’m telling you.
At this point, I am one week from closing escrow on our new house, two weeks from having the keys in hand, and (hopefully) eight weeks from holding our baby girl in my arms. Pregnancy sucks and childbirth will likely be pure chaos, but life is really pretty good. I am miserable, but also so excited and happy. All I can do now is hand things over to the universe. I have no control over anything (including the hemorrhoids that I was gifted last night) and I need to just sit back (gently, and possibly on a pillow) and go with the flow. (Even if the flow has no free time, too much to do, and can’t keep its eyes open past 8:30 pm.)