I should have listened to my best friend when she said to burn the What To Expect When You're Expecting-type books. She has after all popped out four children in under 6 years, so she knows a thing or two about pregnancy. But after months of ignoring them on my bookshelf, they've been dusted off and are literally scaring me to death. You see, it all started the other day when I felt a new "pain" I hadn't experienced, and figured referencing one of my books was better than calling my doctor again--who, by the way--already thinks I'm a little nuts.
But the problem with those books is it always makes you think you're actually in labor, or that something is seriously wrong. I still haven't been able to figure out if the knifing pain in my nether regions really is these "Braxton Hicks" contractions, or if there's just a huge fart lodged in there wanting to come out. And I was pretty positive I had eclampsia one day after experiencing the world's worst heartburn ever, just to have my husband force two Tums down my throat....which worked wonders.
The third trimester serves up all kinds of fun little treats for the human body. In addition to gaining even more weight, it basically turns its back on you in this time of need, manifested by indigestion, farting, cramping, backaches, acne and the return of nausea. I thought heartburn was supposed to be brought on my acidic or spicy meals--wrong. Something as bland as toast causes me to now "throw-up burp," and most foods are making me downright sick to my stomach again. Note to self to ask for more Zofran.
The other main issue is the incessant back pain. Thankfully, I've been able to get pre-natal massages every other week under my insurance, but I honestly don't even know if it's working. It's like because I'm pregnant, I'm this delicate flower that the therapists don't want to touch. I literally beg them to push harder on my poor back, but they refuse in fear they'll hit one of those alleged pressure points that could send me into premature labor. So as a result, every night I bathe myself in Icy Hot as my poor husband tries to shield his nose hairs from being singed by the potent spearmint permeating the entire room.
Maybe it's my own fault for continuing a pretty hardcore exercise routine for a 7-months pregnant lady. But I just can't stop. I've been given no indication by my doctors to slow down or take it easy, and working out is literally the only outlet I have for stress-relief--that, and decorating the baby's room, a project in which I have much pride. (Pics to come soon!)
But despite each day becoming just a little more difficult than the last, I must take the time to show gratitude for having such a healthy pregnancy. I never knew how many problems could arise, and that I'd know so many women with them. I need to thank my lucky stars I don't have gestational diabetes, or haven't been sent to bedrest, or even worse, gone into premature labor. So even though I wish the remaining weeks of my pregnancy were over, I'm reminding myself that it's a small price to pay for the healthy baby I'll be delivering before I know it.
Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."
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