Saturday, March 26, 2011

34 weeks, and counting (the minutes).

So much has changed since the day I found out I was pregnant.

Husband and I both picked up second jobs to bulk up our savings account, a move that, while wise financially, was grueling physically and emotionally. I had no idea how hard  it would be to work so much while growing a child. As I've discovered, being pregnant in and of itself is a full-time job, 24/7, with no time off and no one to call and cover for you if you just don't feel well. To complicate matters, I was trying to balance work and being pregnant with my Fibromyalgia, a disorder that causes chronic pain fatigue. You can guess for yourself how well that worked out for me.

I'm at the point of no return now. 34 weeks pregnant, and things are starting to get serious. The first trimester is often lousy, but you get through it with the thought of the beautiful second trimester to come, the blessed break in your pregnancy where things are starting to look pretty good. People start noticing your baby bump, and the positive feedback is like a breath of fresh air. You have more energy, and suddenly you want to eat again. This whole baby-carrying thing starts to feel a little easier, even do-able. Then comes the third trimester. It sneaks up on you, at first. You have some exhausting days, but for the most part you're doing well. Then, all of a sudden, every day is an exhausting day, and you start to wonder when was the last time you could comfortably tie your shoes.

I think back to the days when my baby's movements were like little butterflies fluttering in my belly, each one was delicate and exciting. Now it feels like we're struggling against each other for room in this body we are sharing. I'm beginning to think this town ain't big enough for the both of us, and it doesn't help that I still have six weeks to go. How on earth am I going to pull that off? It also doesn't help that I feel like I'm carrying Andre the Giant. At our ultrasound yesterday, we discovered that the baby is already six pounds and has a femur size in the 98th percentile, which means it's going be tall, like its Daddy. A big baby, indeed.

At the doctor's office yesterday, I was hit with the cold reality of what I will be living with for the next six weeks. My conversation went a little something like this:
Me- "I am just so tired, all the time. I've never been so tired."
Doc- "Welcome to the last month of pregnancy."
Me-"My abdomen is so sore, it hurts to walk or even sit up if the baby is putting any pressure on it."
Doc- "Welcome to the last month of pregnancy."
I left the office slightly dazed. This is it, I realized, the home stretch. The unavoidable last weeks that I've skimmed through in my pregnancy books. Skimmed through, because those chapters were too frightening to read.  Is that really going to happen to me? Yes. Yes, it will. 

Welcome to the last month (or so) of pregnancy.

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