Sharing is Starting to Suck: Or, How Quickly We Forget

Well, okay, fair enough to say that not much time elapsed between one pregnancy and the next.  Eli was eight months old when I became pregnant again. 

So I hadn’t truly forgotten all the ailments and frustrations of pregnancy (although those memories did recede quickly).  And now, here we are again.

I have to say, for the most part I love being pregnant.  It’s an amazing process and I am no less in awe the second time around.  To grow another person inside your body in 40-ish weeks?  How can you not sit and stare at your belly in wonder?  There is so much happening every second of every day…

Sure, the beginning of this pregnancy was rough.  I had morning sickness almost immediately and it lasted nearly 3x longer than with Eli.  But then I coasted into the second trimester, my favorite stretch of pregnancy.  One day you wake up and, voila!  You simply feel better, almost like yourself.  There is energy, again, and you do not feel nauseated at the sight/smell/thought of certain foods.  It’s a grand time. 

Your belly is starting to poke out and maybe, just maybe, people are starting to think you are pregnant and not developing some kind of beer gut.  This is what being pregnant is all about. 

It goes on like this for some time.  You coast along, looking “cute” (or as cute as you can manage) in your maternity clothes, you feel the baby kick for the first time, you start to contemplate names, you daydream about how wonderful it is going to be to meet this mysterious little person hanging out in your belly.

And then, somewhere just inside the third trimester, it all goes downhill.

Suddenly, food is the enemy, again.  Except this time it doesn’t make you nauseous, it insists on burning your belly and results in acid reflux. 

You wanted to sleep?  Well, between the acid racing up your throat, your stiff hips and lower back, the Charlie horses that send you bolting upright out of sleep, the many trips to the bathroom each night to pee, the sudden onset of carpal tunnel, and your babe’s new boxing skills, you are managing an hour stretch at a time, maybe two if you’re lucky.  You wake up each day looking a little worse for wear.

And if that wasn’t enough, now that you’re tired and saddled with all-day long indigestion, good luck trying to tie your own shoes, bend over without grunting, or breathing without sounding like Darth Vader.  You’ve officially become a spectacle.

Then there’s the little guy living outside your body to contend with each day. 

Most of the time I can get through the day reasonably well.  Eli is getting heavy, and on his “fussy” days likes me to hold him and walk him around.  That is getting difficult.

So, at 31 ½ weeks pregnant, I set my sights on that 36-week mark and say, “Anytime after that, little one.  Come on down.” 

Eli was born just shy of 38 ½ weeks.  I hope like no other that this babe is on a similar schedule. 

I know all the ailments, minor inconveniences, and extreme exhaustion will end.  Of course, the exhaustion will extend beyond the pregnancy, but I welcome those first few months, where at least I can enjoy her outside my body and be exhausted.  Somehow, that is more manageable than her keeping me up all night when I can’t even hold her, yet.

After she’s born, probably not too long after she’s born, there will come a time when I will miss being pregnant.  I was astonished at how quickly after having Eli that I missed it.  “What am I, crazy?” I thought.  Here I was, acid reflux-free, able to eat anything I wanted, able to sleep (when babe would allow) without stiffness and pain, and I wanted to go back and do it all again?  Surely there was/is something wrong with me.

Right now it’s tough to fathom that I will miss all this again.

There comes a point, say like now, when I get tired of sharing my body.  I’m not even sure “sharing” is an appropriate term.  It’s nicer than saying she has completely taken over and invaded my body and I have no control over anything (which is the truth).  But I like to think of it as a sharing relationship.  However, I am tired of sharing and have started to long for my body back, so I can eat, sleep, exercise, bend over, and breathe without having someone make so many indirect objections to everything I do.  

All that said, I cannot wait to finish “cooking” this kid and to meet the little face that is waiting ever so patiently to join us on the outside.  It won’t be long now… and then, before you know it, I will forget all my complaints and look back at my pregnancy with nothing but fondness.  Sometimes, forgetting is a good thing.