Monday, May 31, 2010
12-3-09 "The Pregnancy Chronicles: Week 23"
So I took a break from writing. Most of it’s because I’m lazy and am terrible at commitments. Wait. All of it’s that.
So here lately, I’ve learned that the fetus is a Morrison and not a Jac. Apparently, we ate what was supposed to be the penis. Oops! I’ve also learned that my uterus is the size of a soccer ball. And that I’ve gained 20lbs. Not too terrible. The bad parts just got here.
I was lucky in the beginning. No morning sickness rocked. And we’ve made it to the fun parts because there’s kicking/punching (which Jim felt!) and there’s the actually looking pregnant and not necessarily fat. Work knows now because it’s hard not to notice that I’m smuggling said soccer ball. I’m fine with that. I got some better pregnancy jeans and bought two maternity shirts. I still have pants that fit. These things are great. Want to know what’s not great? …I figured you would, otherwise, you wouldn’t be reading. If I was one of those “miracle of birth” girls this wouldn’t be any fun for you. It’d be like I was that couple that kisses all the time and says things like “smooches” and “love you more” and we’d all have a good vomit together.
What sucks now is that the restless leg syndrome that I had pretty much gotten rid of with the job change (less a few nights here and there) has come back full force. It is impossible (pregnant or not) to sleep when you have to move your legs. It’s also not easy for the person who sleeps in the bed with you or the dog that wants to cuddle, or the puppy at the bottom of the bed. Mostly, it’s just plain terrible for the person who has it. The only way I can describe it is this: You know how some times you have an itch that if you don’t scratch turns into a Twitch/muscle spasm? It’s like that. You have to get to it before your leg moves on its own. Same deal here, really. You have this tingly feeling that says “Do something about this” and you have to move it or it’ll do it for you.
And sciatic nerve pain. Every time I take a step with my left foot (which we can assume is about every other step) I get a shooting pain to the middle of my butt. Did I tell you that the stretching of my uterus gives sharp pains too? And that Morrison has the ability to make me feel like I’m going to pee myself for a second every time she stomps right on my bladder? And that it’s difficult to stay in the mood when in the middle of it all you get punched from the inside? I’m not saying that pregnancy is not a “miracle.” It is. In a really gross way.
What I AM saying is: It’s not for the faint of heart. Or someone who enjoys sleeping. Or walking. Or sitting. Or crossing their legs. Or feeling thin.
Luckily, I’m a trooper. Regardless of whether or not I get a choice. Grin and bear it, right?
If you notice the grumbling quasi negative ramblings, you should know that that’s also a side effect. I have little patience. And I say the F word much more often than I should. And people make me really mad all of the sudden. And really sad. Mostly tv does it. And people driving. Anywho, although I may be a negative nancy, I’m positive polly for most of the day. Turns out that I’m most motivated to write (who isn’t) when I’m not in the greatest mood. But again, you wouldn’t want to read this if it was about sunshine and rainbows.