Wednesday, May 23, 2012

This Is Not Fair

I have decided, in all my wisdom and glory, that it is entirely unfair of God to allow pregnancy to become more arduous the more times you gestate. I mean, seriously, what's up with this? Have I not proven my deep resolve to be a human incubator in the previous SEVEN full term pregnancies? Is my quickly approaching 38 birthday not sufficient evidence that I value children over, say, retirement at 72? Do I really need to suffer... really?

I am nearing the end of what can, without a doubt, be called my most unpleasant pregnancy. Now, before I receive a plethora of gory pregnancy stories sure to shock me, or anyone who has more than 3 brain cells, let me gently preface all this by saying that I do not experience technically difficult pregnancies. I do not require profuse amounts of medical attention. I am not bedridden. I have never been diagnosed with hypertension, gestational diabetes or hyperemesis. In fact, with the exception of Bethany, I don't even get stretch marks. You could definitely say my complaints are simply run of the mill. But I've been running the mill without much of a break for 13 years. Doesn't that count for something?

I am tired. And I mean really, really tired. I gave the entire house a thorough vacuuming yesterday and about fell over from exhaustion. However, this shouldn't cause you to believe that I am sleeping. True, I may well be found in my bed 22 hours of the day, but getting a restful night's sleep is far more elusive than placing your body in the room assigned to this activity. My right hip hurts. My left hip aches. I can't sleep on my back or tummy. And when I do finally nod off for a moment or two my dreams are the stuff of a Stanley Kubrick film gone wrong... and frankly I'm one of those people who doesn't believe there is a lot of right to begin with in a Kubrick film. His films give me heartburn. Actually, I have heartburn all the time now. Heartburn when I eat spicy food. Heartburn when I eat bland food. Heartburn when I bend over to pretend I am tying my shoe. Heartburn when I lie down. Heartburn when I sit down. Heartburn when I drink milk, juice, chai or water. Then I gag down my Gaviscon only to find that my gag reflex is out of control. I have to use my crazy ninja skills to brush my back teeth in order to clean them before my throat involuntarily convulses into some wild chicken dance and I lose whatever was causing me to have heartburn.  

I used to proudly strut around with my baby bump perched effortlessly on the front of my body. I now waddle like an elephant with a hippopotamus strapped to the underside of her belly. It's not a very pretty sight - nor is the dry, flaking skin stretching from my forehead to my toes. Thankfully I have a total of two muumuus that I can rotate in order to feel pretty and fresh every day. Imagine if I had only one!

I mention this to you mostly because I am soliciting copious amounts of sympathy.


Yep, this is not fair.


1 comment:

  1. I am sorry you are going through difficult times. I would imagine pregnancy is a difficult period and has both its positives and negatives ... Just think, soon it will be all over! My sense is that when you look into that new face you will forget all of the problems you had during this time. Love to you, Dad.