Pregnancy Confessions II
|December 5, 2013||Posted by Lauren under Pregnancy|
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Pregnancy Confessions (and other senseless rambles)
I am officially in Pregnant-Running retirement.
I thought about writing an entire post about this, but there’s really no need to make it more dramatic than it was. Nothing happened. There was no “This is My Last Run of Pregnancy!” moment. I just…stopped running. And I’ve simply lost all desire to start again. I guess you could say my last “official” run was during the 36th week of this pregnancy. But it was only a mile, so it feels a little silly to count it.
The funny thing is that I miss it, but I don’t. Even walks are becoming uncomfortable these days. And really, as the weather gets colder, I find myself missing skiing way more than I miss running.
I do, however, miss feeling strong.
I feel like I’m in the worst shape of my life. I get winded walking up stairs (or hills) and my legs are exhausted. I feel every single one of those 29 pounds I’ve gained since March, but I’ve forgotten what it’s like to move around without them.
That being said, I’m surprised by how little I miss my abs.
Before getting pregnant, I thought that might be one of the harder things to see go. But now I find that I really don’t care. Sure, I’d love to have a nice strong core again, but I have to admit it’s kind of nice to just let it all hang out.
…now we’ll see how that changes once this hard ball of baby turns into flab…
…and the shirt no longer fits…
I’m working from home until the baby is born. And while I originally had grand plans to wake up every morning and make myself presentable so that I’d be more productive, I’ve been spending the week in old running pants and Evan’s sweatshirts.
My commute to the office is 75 minutes each way (on a good day). I’m incredibly thankful for a doctor’s note and a flexible enough work environment that has allowed me to work from home for these next couple of weeks. But I’m slightly embarrassed to admit how quickly it’s turned me into a slob.
I don’t really think my belly is all that big…until I catch a glimpse of my reflection or see a photo.
And then I remember.
My only requirement for our tree was that we find one fatter than my belly. Done and done.
I don’t think I’ll miss being pregnant, but I can see how I might miss feeling her move.
I am so excited to meet my daughter and get to know who she is. But I can’t deny the fact that there’s this incredible connection between the two of us right now that will soon be gone. It’s weird to think about.
I lose track of how many times I wake up at night.
Nights all blur together at this point anyway. As long as I fall back to sleep after each wake up (doesn’t always happen), I consider it a successful night. I’m just hoping all of this will be good practice for the first few months of life with a newborn.
I’m terrified of what life is going to be like with a newborn, but not for reasons you might think.
I know that first month (/months!) can be incredibly tough. The sleep deprivation, the hormones, the recovery, the crying, etc etc etc. But I’m not really stressed about it. I’m not claiming to know everything there is to know about raising a child, I’m just confident in Evan and I as a team. As tough as it may be sometimes, I know we’re going to figure things out as we go.
No, I’m more nervous about my ability to commit to all of the things I want to do: breastfeed, cloth diaper (it’s always a good sign when you tell your husband’s grandmother you’re using cloth and she responds with “God bless ya!“), work full-time, and oh yeah, somehow find time to actually train again. Not to mention spending time with my husband and making sure the poor pup doesn’t feel neglected. I know deep down that if things are a priority, we’ll make time for them. But it’s hard to even wrap my head around the level of crazy that is about to become my life.
Cloth might be extra work, but it’s hard to deny the cuteness
Because everyone wants to know — yes, I’d love to have an all-natural, smooth labor but I’m absolutely not against medication if needed.
In fact, I’m going in expecting to at least need pitocin, due to a family history of bodies that just don’t seem to want to progress through active labor on their own. I don’t want it, and I certainly don’t plan on asking for it (unless of course, baby decides to be nice and late. Then I’m all about helping encourage her to come out). I’d rather not use drugs because I want to rely on the strength of my own body to get me through labor. But ultimately I accept that I am not the one in control here (a very difficult thing for me to come to terms with, believe me). And at the end of the day, as cliché as it sounds, our number one goal is “healthy baby, healthy mom.”
I’ve never understood when women say they are looking forward to the pain of labor.
If that’s you, well…to use the words of Evan’s grandmother: “God bless ya!” To each his own, I guess. I’m not dreading the pain, and I accept that childbirth is going to hurt. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to feeling it. It’s like running a marathon (yeah, I know, completely different things but it’s the closest comparison I have so go with me here!). I know that pain is going to be a part of the experience. And when that pain comes, I accept it, embrace it as much as I can, and try to work through it, knowing that it’ll ultimately make me stronger. But I certainly don’t look forward to it. I am excited about the reward that comes after the marathon, not the pain I have to endure during it.
Even though everyone insists otherwise, there’s a part of me that wonders if I’ll even know I’m in labor when the time comes.
In movies it’s always so dramatic. The woman is going about her day when suddenly BAM! – she’s hit with the most intense contraction ever. Or her water breaks in public and there’s a mad rush to get to the hospital. In reality, the percentage of women whose water breaks before labor begins is pretty low. And I’ve been experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions on a regular basis since 33 weeks. What was once just a few tightenings in the evening has now become an all-day occurrence. There’s not pattern to them yet, but feeling contractions has become as normal a part of my day as feeling the baby move. So what if I’ve just become immune to it?*
*Okay so rationally I realize that real contractions are way more intense than BH (and have even felt a few real ones to prove it) and that women aren’t able to just go about their day, oblivious to the fact that they’re experiencing pain. But…doesn’t mean the fear isn’t still there.
At close to 38 weeks, I’m less anxious for the end than I thought I would be.
There was a long period of time during this pregnancy when I thought the end would NEVER come. December seemed like a lifetime away. Even as I hit the third trimester, I just kept telling myself: make it to 37 weeks, that’s all you have to do. Just like when I’m doing a long run, thinking about the very end was overwhelming. So I tell myself that if I can make it to mile 17/18, I can certainly make it to mile 20. I thought maybe these last few weeks would drag on forever, but they’re not. Instead, I’m increasingly aware of how little time I have left. Although I’ve had 9+ months to prepare, it seems like there is so much to do in these last few weeks. So much to take in before my life is forever changed. And sometimes I wonder — am I ready??
And then I picture still being pregnant on Christmas and all I can say is “COME OUT NOW BABY! (please and thank you)”