Saturday, February 22, 2014
The third trimester is hard.
I'm 31 weeks into my pregnancy (which means I have 9 weeks, or two months left) and I am feeling it.
I've reached the point in my pregnancy when I can't just bend over willy-nilly.
Things fall on the floor at 9:30 am and I find myself thinking, "Well, I guess that will be there until Travis comes home."
Crackers hit the ground, and I know they'll be ground to crumbs long before they end up in the trash. Sometimes things like my phone fall and I spend a long 30 seconds considering how much I actually want to reach down and get it.
I now need about 5 pillows to support my body in bed, and have to constantly rearrange myself throughout the night. Rolling over is a huge process.
I have been scolded by my doctor for not gaining enough weight (and in fact, losing weight) and having abysmally low iron. But it's practically torture for me to eat, because my stomach is so small and cramped that I feel constantly uncomfortable, most food is unappealing (unless it's Cheerios), and everything gives me such bad heartburn that I feel like I'm having a heart-attack for hours after eating, even with a million Tums and prescription acid medicine.
Let's talk more about heartburn.
It's the. worst.
I wake up in the night, choking on my own painful acid, because even the bland food I choked down is trying to fight its way back up.
If I make the mistake of actually bending down to pick something up within an hour or two of eating, the food so precariously hiding in my stomach rushes immediately to my mouth by the mere force of gravity.
Even though I am underweight, I've still gained over 15 pounds, and I've gained 100% of that in my breasts and belly. It is a blessing, to some extend, yes. I certainly don't have any extra fast to lose after the baby's born - but the extra weight in only one area strains my back and bends my spine so far forward that it's difficult to stay on my feet without losing balance, or starting to ache almost immediately.
A few days ago, my back was so, so sore that I begged Travis to massage it. I kept insisting, "Harder, use your knuckles, dig in deeper," because I was in so much pain from carrying this big baby around.
The next morning, my back was covered in little bruises! Oops. Maybe he was massaging too hard, but it was such a relief (even just briefly!) to have my sore muscles given some attention.
I did not expect this.
I had all these problems with my first pregnancy, yeah. But I was pregnant with twins! Of course my back hurt all the time and I couldn't consume enough calories in a day!
I kind of assumed this pregnancy would be easier, when really, it's pretty much been exactly the same as the first time.
I actually don't mind being pregnant for the most part. Frankly, I have pretty high self-esteem when I'm pregnant, because I am a cute pregnant person. I love, love, love the feeling of having a bony little baby moving inside me (and this baby seems to be all elbows). The sweet dreaming and expectation of my little boy keeps my heart full and happy. And I actually really like the attention and community-love that having a baby brings. People want to stop me at stores and church and ask about my family, encourage and congratulate me, and tell me how beautiful I am. That stuff rocks. I want it all the time.
But pregnancy kicks my body's butt.
On three different occasions in the past two months, I've straight up peed my pants while just standing around with friends and had to go change my clothes.
I just sneezed, (and in one case, coughed) and found myself soaked through in my own urine.
My two-year olds are literally better potty-trained than pregnant-Becky.
Travis and I were able to go on a surprise date last night, and during the time spent at the restaurant (6-8pm) I had to get up and pee five times. Yeah man. I did. Our waitress was probably worried.
The thing is, I know it's not that bad.
There are women who throw up every half an hour for 9 months. Women on IVs. Women who die from the strain of pregnancy.
And women who would do anything and suffer any of these silly inconveniences to be blessed with a healthy baby growing inside their body.
But this week, I'm letting myself feel a little pity for myself.
Especially since my otherwise practically-perfect husband is leaving for a week and a half for a trip to India and I'll be left with my three-year old twins (who, by the way, do not appreciate their mother's decline in energy and interest in carrying them around all day.)
Sigh. 9 more weeks.
Then I'll have a new kind of exhaustion to deal with.
And an extremely cute reminder of why all these pregnancy shenanigans are worth it.