For the last 30 weeks I have been nauseated, struggling to keep my face from turning green and my food from coming up. I have started to wobble instead of walk, and I rely on my toddler to help reach my shoes. I feel confident that this is my last pregnancy, so I feel that I should embrace it and feel humbled by every struggle and each ache and pain. I feel that instead of moan about my nausea, I should focus on what my body is doing, and has done. Instead of cry about the excruciating pain I feel in my lower back daily and the horrific tightening I get in my lumbar while experiencing Braxton Hicks, I should take a deep breath and say, “It’ll never be like this again.” Yet, I feel guilty admitting that I do not feel humbled. I feel as though I am counting my pregnancy the wrong way … I’m counting down instead of adding the weeks.
I am beyond excited (as well as anxious and absolutely nervous) about welcoming our second child into this world. I cannot wait to hold her and love her and kiss on her just like I do our mister every day. There is no better feeling in the world than the comfort of our children, no matter their age or size. Pregnancy, however, does not give me the same joy and excitement. After our journey to Evan, I feel as though I should embrace it more and complain less. I have so much to be thankful for — especially this pregnancy. I am not experiencing the amount of edema I did with Evan and so far, I’m showing no signs of preeclampsia. But I’m ready for our baby to be here. Scratch that, I was ready yesterday! I do not want to rush the process, but if it could speed along a wee bit I would not complain.
Tell me about your additional pregnancies, did you find them more difficult with a toddler to chase around, too? —Jennifer