Tuesday, January 24, 2012

27 weeks




I can't believe this is the final week of my second trimester. Next week I will begin the final stretch. It's absolutely insane! And it might be a little early to be saying this, but I kind of can't wait to not be pregnant anymore. Like everything else about pregnancy, it's a mixed emotion—I'm elated at the thought of being able to bend and twist my body any which way I choose, sleeping without 45 pillows propping up various body parts and maybe not being in pain when doing so, enjoying a cup of coffee and a caesar salad (perhaps not together though), being able to run instead of waddle. But, of course, I know I will also feel a twinge of sadness when the journey is over because there is something tremendously special about being pregnant and being thisclose to my baby girl at all times. Part of me feels like the minute she leaves my body she will be leaving for college the next day and that…..well, it makes my heart hurt. 


But, really, the end of pregnancy is not the most comfortable of times. Something shifted in my body last week and I reached a new stage in which I like to exclaim "I'm just too pregnant!" followed by some sort of animal-sounding grunt that could only escape a pregnant woman's mouth. This usually happens when I try to lift myself off the couch, get into bed at night or dress myself. So I've been wondering why there isn't a manual every pregnant woman receives that is filled with practical how-to's and solutions. I don't mean the standard "you're going to feel like throwing up. When this happens eat some ginger, munch on crackers, never leave your stomach completely empty." I'm talking about "you're not going to be able to put on your own underwear, pants or socks. When this happens find yourself a pair of tongs with extra long handles and use these as an extension of your own arm to pull those suckers on." Really, the list of things you can no longer maneuver is quite extensive, I think it'd make good sense for someone to come up with some solutions. It's just not practical to assume I have someone following me around all day putting lotion on my legs for me, picking up everything I drop on the floor and cannot retrieve, or spoon feeding me because I cannot reach my plate at the table. I mean, I nearly severed a toe attempting to cut my own toenails the other day. That doesn't seem fair.

It seems unnatural to transition into a sappy pregnancy sentiment after everything I just said, so I'll leave it at that for the week:)





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