Thirty-Two Week Update: Pregnancy Complaint Department

Seven months

Eight months

Whoa, only seven weeks to go and I haven't formally complained yet? This is so unlike me. When I was pregnant with Nug three years ago, I was a 24/7 grumbling, heaving, gasping, limping, overblown balloon. And not the fun helium kind. Despite my knowledge as a perinatal nurse, I was shocked to experience the bodily changes, and spent at least four months horrified at the size of my undergarments. This time, thankfully, has been different. Tempered by a good dose of gratitude, preschooler-demanded busy-ness, and a healthier diet, I am empowered to tug up my giant panties and smile as I watch my balloon belly grow.

Still, pregnancy is a funny thing and I would be remiss to exclude the uncute reality of these often romanticized ten months. There is, of course, a wide range of expression among women (serial surrogate moms, for example, who feel best when pregnant, or bed-ridden moms who endure months of gut-checking hyperemesis), so I'm just going from my experience. And my experience has me wondering at times why child-bearing women aren't a little better adapted for, well, child-bearing. Some things are understandable, like the pain of labor as a necessary trade-off for our species' ability to stand up-right. Ok ok. But what's up with the splash of red spots across my chest? So, on behalf of all similarly afflicted women searching for answers, I'm writing an open letter to the Powers That Be.

Dear Pregnancy Goddesses,

Thank you for the unique opportunity to grow life inside of me, but I have a few questions about that. One would think our bodies would be better suited for it; I have organs and appendages whose only design is baby support. So why the add-on features? 

Maternity underwear, for example. Why the wider crotch? My pelvis is loose, but come on, this is embarrassing. While we are talking about clothing, you must already know that the sewed-in holes inside nursing bras never line up to where you need them (but I do thank you, by the way, for the bra-extender invention).

Last night after flossing my teeth I found myself staring back at a vampire post-feeding. My poor bleeding gums! And when I woke last night at 12:30, 3:30, 4, and 6, why were my arms numb and tingly? I was only sleeping. Well, trying to sleep.

Here's one that may really stump you: how does a person have constipation and diarrhea in the same sitting? I'd call that a waste of resources, wouldn't you?!

My hips have held nicely this time around (crossing fingers), but I'd like to continue to be able to walk. Is that asking too much? I use them a lot when sleeping too, since lying on my belly or back is out of the mix. I'm thinking that since I am giving birth at a hospital, maybe I could exchange these hips for new ones while I'm there.  

There's also a category of annoyances I like to call "get out of my body." In addition to a now nearly five-pound fetus inhabiting me, I'm full of snot, ear wax, skin tags, and varicose veins. It's kind-of a lot of stuff and makes me kind-of a little cranky. 

I have managed to keep my weight in check lately, but still I am left with some weight and food-related ailments. First, reflux that sneaks up my throat as soon as I lie my head down for bed. Italians have the perfect word for this, "agita." Second, enough fluid in my ankles to leave potholes if I sit cross-legged or wear socks with, say, elastic. Unfortunately, it is winter and thus sock-wearing season, so I look like a heart failure patient when I disrobe at night. 

At eight months pregnant for the second go-round, I realize that it's about to get real funny around here soon, and I'm already laughing. Like how instead of banking some sleep, I'll have insomnia to ready myself for a newborn schedule. Hilarious! And how my pelvis will shake free from its ligaments, but no less than four weeks before any sign of baby. Love that! Thanks for the humor; I'm going to need a lot of it very soon. Meanwhile, send any answers direct to this blog.

Sincerely, 
C