I've hit the 36 week marker and it seems as if my hormones quadrupled. Andrew made a sandwich for himself last night without offering one for me and I almost kicked him out of the house. I have thoughts like, "this will be my life forever and I will never get my body back" quickly followed by "oh God, I am about to have a baby and my life will never be the same MAKE IT STOP so she can stay inside me forever."
This morning it was all about the hair. My hair was a dirty grease ball and needed to be washed. So logically I sat in an epsom salt bath to ease my pelvic bone pain and cried about having to then go to the shower and wash my hair (my bathtub shower doesn't work, and the garden tub has the shower but I don't take baths in it----very complicated system over here in the Kingdom of Traiylor). Andrew sat with me and in sweeter terms told me to get my shit together and that I could either sit in the bathtub all day crying or we could go for a walk, meditate, and make life better.
I hate it when he is right.
I stared at my ever growing belly and asked him if he could carry her for just one night. Just one night so I could get some solid sleep without waking up every time I had to crane lift myself to roll over. Wouldn't that be amazing? Alas no, this is my load to carry and I shall forever remind him the rest of our lives that I did it.
I shuffled to the shower, washed my hair, lubed myself back up with coconut oil, and now I'm propped up with 10 pillows in bed sipping on preggo tea. Baby girl is lovingly karate kid style kicking me in my side and I'm feeling a little better. Pregnancy is all consuming--that is why pregnant women can't seem to talk about anything other than being pregnant. Forgive us, love us, and always tell us we haven't gained that much weight while offering a cookie.
This morning it was all about the hair. My hair was a dirty grease ball and needed to be washed. So logically I sat in an epsom salt bath to ease my pelvic bone pain and cried about having to then go to the shower and wash my hair (my bathtub shower doesn't work, and the garden tub has the shower but I don't take baths in it----very complicated system over here in the Kingdom of Traiylor). Andrew sat with me and in sweeter terms told me to get my shit together and that I could either sit in the bathtub all day crying or we could go for a walk, meditate, and make life better.
I hate it when he is right.
I stared at my ever growing belly and asked him if he could carry her for just one night. Just one night so I could get some solid sleep without waking up every time I had to crane lift myself to roll over. Wouldn't that be amazing? Alas no, this is my load to carry and I shall forever remind him the rest of our lives that I did it.
I shuffled to the shower, washed my hair, lubed myself back up with coconut oil, and now I'm propped up with 10 pillows in bed sipping on preggo tea. Baby girl is lovingly karate kid style kicking me in my side and I'm feeling a little better. Pregnancy is all consuming--that is why pregnant women can't seem to talk about anything other than being pregnant. Forgive us, love us, and always tell us we haven't gained that much weight while offering a cookie.
2 comments:
You can (and will!) make it! Those last few weeks are tough. You will feel so much better after she is born. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to feed Annie and realizing that a) I didn't have to pee and b) my hips weren't killing me! And I loved the novelty of being able to bend over...it's the little things :)
Thank you thank you for leaving this message! It cheered me up for sure. I can't wrap my head around the fact that I will be able to put on shoes again without having to sit down. But I know it will come soon enough. xoxoxoxoox
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