I LOVE being pregnant. I have been happier than words can describe since the moment that I found out. Sure, there have been times when I didn’t think that my boobs would ever stop hurting. I thought surely I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed if the pain didn’t go away. And then there are the (very frequent) occasions when my back hurts so bad that I get down on the floor and try every position possible to get some relief. But still, I could not imagine how any pregnant woman could ever be miserable. How can you be miserable with your baby inside of you? How can you stay upset when you feel the kicks and flutters?
I’ll tell you how. Even though I swore that I would be floating on a cloud until the day of her arrival, the day has come, and I am officailly Miserable Pregnant Woman. First of all, those cute little kicks and flutters don’t stay cute (or little) for long. Being punched in the bladder is not fun. Having feet in my ribcage isn’t a day at the park, either. And being elbowed so hard that it wakes me up at night, well, if you know me and how much I love sleep, then you know where I stand on that one.
Then there’s the feeling that my vagina is going to turn inside-out. Yeah, like it’s all just going to fall out of me. I’ve mentioned it before, but it keeps getting worse. It has become painful to walk at times, especially in those middle-of-the-night toilet trips. Even rolling over in bed has become an inner struggle: Should I roll over and bear the pain, or try to go back to sleep although I am not at all comfortable? Usually though, I just roll over in my sleep, and the va-jay-jay wakes me up anyway.
If that isn’t enough, something else interrupts my sleep: (now do you see why I sleep until noon every day?) leg cramps. Not just any cramps; these are killer. A few nights ago, Denny thought I was dying when I woke him up with my screaming and jumping out of bed. All I could think about at that moment was how I should run to the kitchen, get the largest knife I could find, and cut off my leg, because surely that would have felt better. And the cramps don’t go away; they last all day. Walking and stretching do help, but seriously, 50 more days of this?
And the hormones. They are whacked. I tried to pick out fabric for the rocking chair cushion, and got so overwhelmed at the choices that I broke into tears at the fabric store and had to leave. My patience level (it’s never been that high to begin with) is officially in the negatives. I can’t deal with anything anymore. I get so pissed off so easily. And I worry all of the time, mostly about things that I cannot control, and that pisses me off even more and I get upset and cry all over again. I wish I could just dig a hole and stay in it until Baby Girl (who STILL does not have a name! Oh my god, what are we gonna do? We are running out of time! And if one more person suggests this name or that name, I might just kill them!) makes her appearance. I just want to be left alone. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want you to doubt that I can have this baby naturally. I don’t want you to tell me that you hope that there is a hospital nearby for when I give in and ask for an epidural. I am stronger than you think, and I am determined! I WILL NOT give in and go to the hospital. I WILL have this baby naturally, at the birthing center, with a midwife, and the baby and I will be perfectly fine! I don’t want you to tell me how horrible the name Sadie is and send me a letter of 50 baby names that you think are better. My lord, it’s just Sadie. It’s not like I want to name her Gertrude or Ja’Zeriah or fartface. And yes, I am glad that there are people in your family whom you think the baby should be named after, but #1: there already are children in your family who have been named after those who have gone before us. Let’s be original, please. #2: You had children of your own – you have had your chance to name your babies, and now it’s my turn. Why didn’t you give your children the family names that you keep throwing my way? #3: Did it ever occur to you that there are people in my family that I might want to name my daughter after? Yeah, that’s right. I have a family too. With real people, who have names. #4: Who says babies must be named after someone else? Why can’t she have her very own name that is hers and only hers?
But what is even worse than all of that is my husband. Yeah, I’ve gotten huge in the last few weeks. My appetite has increased (again), probably because Baby Girl is growing fast and will likely double her weight in the next 7 weeks. Denny has become (using the nicest possible word I can think of) insensitive. He cracks jokes at the number of times I need a snack during the day. He lovingly refers to my girls as “Amazons”. Have you ever watched the National Geographic channel and seen the women of the jungle with boobs down to their belly buttons? Although I don’t resemble them exactly, I come quite close. Plus, he won’t come near them, for fear that they might leak on him, and I don’t blame him; there’s a very good chance that they will. So how am I supposed to test the theory that nipple stimulation helps trigger the start of labor? (I can’t believe I just typed “nipple stimulation”. Sorry for being so graphic.) After all, I need all the help that I can get to get this baby out – soon!