If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say…
I’ve been a slacker when it comes to blogging lately. And I’ll tell you why: I feel rotten. All I have to relate to you are complaints, and nobody wants to hear that, right? To be fair, I should have written this in the morning, because then my body is far less tired and sore from lugging my belly around. Tyler calls me Grouchy McGroucherson in the evening. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop the complaining, so here it comes… like word vomit…
I’ve had contractions for six weeks and counting. Some days they are better and I won’t have a single one; other days I will have them several minutes apart for hours at a time. I wonder if I’ll have anything left when it comes time for true labor. I wonder if I’ll recognize true labor when it starts.
Sometimes it feels like my pelvis is splitting open. This is probably because it is. I have always had the hips of a ten year old boy (read: nonexistent), and a baby is going to have to come through there somehow, so I guess they are making themselves ready.
Having a big belly sticking out in front of you makes your back really, really sore. By the time nighttime comes, there is no position I can get into without wanting to cry. Right now I have my Snoogle wrapped around my waist, and that seems to be helping, but usually I just end up going to bed because I just can’t sit anywhere.
There are other things… I feel huge, I pee all the time, I don’t sleep well, blah blah blah. The looks I get from strangers as I waddle past them have slowly transitioned from “awww, what a cute pregnant belly” to sympathy/pity or “please don’t let your water break on my shoes.” Then again, other things have gotten better, and I should probably focus on those things instead– less heartburn, less trouble breathing (maybe the baby has dropped?), more rest since I’m out of school, and every day that goes by is one more day closer to meeting my baby. I have to say, though, overall– I’m kind of over it. I want my body back!
Anyway, on to a different topic that involves less whining and violins. We started childbirth classes about two weeks ago. It’s an interesting experience. It definitely makes labor seem like something more real, something in the near future that is actually going to happen to me. Which is good, not bad. I’ve been putting off thinking about labor because I’m not good with pain (I know nobody likes it, but I’m a pretty big wimp, if you couldn’t tell from the first half of this post). At least Tyler isn’t like this one guy in our class: we had to go around the room the first day and say what our expectations of the class were, and the guy’s wife said something like “to increase my confidence about birth” and her husband glared at her and said aggressively, “we want to go NATURAL. We want to learn how to go DRUG-FREE for our BABY’S sake.” And she was just quiet. I felt really, really badly for her– it’s not your body, you jerk! Let her decide for herself! What a nutjob. I do think Tyler thinks somewhat less of me because I’ve never made it any secret that I plan on getting an epidural, but at least he supports me and lets me make my own decision. (My sister-in-law has had two kids, both with four-hour labors and neither with any kind of pain medication, and I think he thinks I should be like that too, at least a little bit.)
Anyway, I’m rambling so I’d better quit. Goals for next post: sooner than two weeks from now, and to write it in the morning when I’m a happier pregnant lady!Add a Comment