Pregnancy Musings...

This week I began to hit that period of discomfort that I've read so much about in the pregnancy books. Not that I'm surprised. I've read so much about each stage and week of pregnancy that I realized I now fancy myself a medical expert of sorts and find myself nodding my head knowingly when newly pregnant friends describe their early symptoms.

"Not hungry for chicken?" I ask. "It's just as well. Pregnant women's bodies avoid anything that might possibly make them sick. You'll get over it by 17 weeks and three days."

But there are some parts of discomfort that books don't really tell you about. Like how your body feels like it's strrrrettttccching all the time. Really, I think this stretching must be akin to the medieval torture racks. Sometimes it takes my breath away, but then I realize that it's probably a good thing since it means the baby is growing. It sure will be exciting to have him growing like a weed over the next eight weeks, especially since he's supposed to double or triple his weight during that time. Ouch! I imagine my stomach might look like a deflated balloon after he is born.

Another discomfort of third trimester pregnancy is sleeping. Or maybe I should say not sleeping. Granted, I am still getting about seven hours per night (down from my usual eight to nine hours; those of you with small children can stop laughing now), but it is a very interrupted sleep that usually goes something like this. Prop six pillow up around me, leaving my husband with a mere foot of bed space to cling to (he hates that boppy). Choose a side to sleep on, shifting into the most comfortable place with a great degree of difficulty since it feels like there is a 20 pound weight in my belly. Moan as I shift into place, hoping to gain sympathy from said husband (although really in some discomfort), making comments like, "Ow! This baby is hurting me! Why don't YOU have to give birth?"

The next seven hours consists of alternately waking up on my back with a fair amount of alarm (not good for the sciatica) and rolling like a weeble wobble out of bed to go pee. Amazingly, I wake up most mornings feeling good since the night is finally over.

Maybe I'm making this all sound worse than it is; afterall, there are also plenty of joys during pregnancy, and I still have so many friends that don't have kids that I don't want to write anything here that will be a form of birth control. There are plenty of lovely things, really. Like reading Operating Instructions by Anne LaMott and understanding the awe she felt the first time she realized a person actually dwelt within her. Like buying tiny little onesies and imagining the baby that will wear them and how he'll have that beautiful baby smell and that he'll be yours. Like people smiling at you when they realize you are pregnant and going out of their way to hold doors open for you--almost like you're in the South. Like that.