I’m counting down the final weeks of my second pregnancy. Lord knows I’m done. With a minimum of two months left, an extremely active baby and a not-so-careful, active toddler, I want my body back. Pushed, pulled, kicked and smacked from the outside; pushed, elbowed and kicked from the inside, I just want to scream “Enough!” Especially since I haven’t had my own body to myself for two years and ten months.
When other mothers on social media seem to have great pregnancies, or appear to be doing everything right, always positive and upbeat, it can make you feel like a terrible mother for not being able to keep up your exercises, or afford your pregnancy tea, or being incapable of managing your toddler’s every need.
Discouraged, bloated, swollen, tired, cranky, hot and just plain miserable, you scroll further down your newsfeed hoping somebody else is falling apart. Surely you can’t be the only person in your circle who hates life today?
Books, toys, complaints, among a plethora of other things, are shoved in my face, forcefully smacked into my limbs, grabbed for across my bulging stomach, or thrown in my direction.
The rumblings of discomfort become more frequent as the “flutterings” of a rolling, stretching, growing baby start to feel more like earthquakes.
Prayers for an early delivery billow more like smoke from a forest fire, as opposed to a waiver from incense. Each reminder that you’re not glowing and excited making you want to boycott the internet. When does the misery end?
I read an article from Everyday Family this afternoon, giving me permission to feel this way. Finally, I’m not alone. And it’s okay to be done.
My friends try to perk me up, some of them never having been pregnant and others who never will experience pregnancy. It’s nice to be encouraged or focused on other things, but come the end of the day, you’re still pregnant, you’re still raising a toddler, and you’re still miserable.
The neverending cycle of housework stacking up laundry and dishes, sprinkling dust in the air, mashing food into the floors, pushing toys under the couch, scattering things all over the floors.
When all one wants is a nap, where is there time to enjoy the phenomenon of Life?
One day, it will end and I can stand straight up and down again. I’ll be free to bend, stretch, lift and move!
Until then, I endure the moments by remembering my son won’t always be a toddler, he isn’t going to have Mommy to himself much longer, and Mommy isn’t going to have the same kind of time and energy -however difficult it is to come by right now- to spend with him like I do now. There wont be enough space to crawl into my lap for his afternoon nap, or to watch movies. He won’t have the same amount of room to snuggle into Mommy’s bed in the middle of the night. He won’t be the only one demanding my attention.
How precious the moments, even in the tempest of misery.
The other things I look forward to, and anticipate with extreme delight, are various postpartum accessories to aid in feeling better about having two children, without the guilt staring at me from the mirror. From tummy wraps to a hip corset, I’m looking forward to getting MY body back sooner. Followed up with a better diet this particular time around, and not making the same mistakes I did the first time.
So far so good and I look better than I did the first time by managing a healthier choice of diet. Ladies, I don’t care what they say, whatever you put on has to come back off, and it don’t just fall of. You aren’t eating for two, eat for YOU.
So there is solace, and there is a brightside. But I’m done.
And I hope every day she comes early. Healthy of course, but early.