Mundane, my ass. Since that last post, this pregnancy has become "complicated," we have become petless (Conan disappeared, and Voodoo passed away), gone from me lying down 24/7 to gearing back up to having time for about 5 hours of sleep of day, cancelled a trip, taken a trip and jumped head first back into a schedule that is just ridiculous.
The last post sounds oh so peaceful about a routine pregnancy, with just the morning sickness extended, but finally waning. Exercise on the horizon! Hah! I must have jinxed myself. The very next week I landed my ass on the couch on strict bedrest, with strong contractions 5-8 minutes apart round the clock. It was 4 weeks of concern, frustration, and not enough reading material. This encompassed the holiday season, and the any energy reserves Fillip might have once had. He and the boys were great, doing their very best to keep some order and sanity while we wondered if we would in fact get to keep this baby, or if we were in for another loss.
From 17-21 weeks I obediently remained lying down as much as possible, becoming proficient at cleaning the kitchen in 5 minutes bursts on my way to or from the bathroom or obtaining a snack. We played lots of board games on the coffee table, and somehow learned to watch movies all piled on the couch with me lying down under 1-3 male bodies also relaxing on the couch. While I enjoyed getting a guilt-free nap each morning as my guys left for the day, I did not enjoy my inability to participate in bike rides, etc... At the end of this saga, when the contractions seemed to be waning, the docs determined that the contractions were not productive, and sent me packing back to work.
So here I am at 27 weeks, tempting fate by resuming my busier than possible schedule, with little ill results other than complete exhaustion. It took until about a week ago to finally enjoy this pregnancy. I finally feel mostly fine (well, except for the annoying upper respiratory infection, and my body overriding the allergy meds), contractions are strong but sporadic, and my checkups are routine. Phew. Of course, this time around my body seems to have its own idea of how big I should be. Literally, one of my closest family members who hadn't seen me in 2 weeks did a double take and exclaimed in shock when she saw me. No, my size and that reaction don't even bother me. You know what does? Strangers frequently give me sympathetic looks and try to reassure me that I am "almost done" and "it won't be long now." Really? Because, with three more months to go, I feel like I am not almost done, nor should I be.
I may barely be able to walk myself around the block before experiencing crippling round ligament pain, but I am finally enjoying the process. In comparison to my previous pregnancies, I may look about 8 months pregnant, but I love feeling this little boy move inside me, and last night could have sworn I held a little hand through the thin stretched wall of my belly. I remember this feeling of needing to cherish every moment, as the unique and precious time of growing another person will end before I know it. This time I am savoring each sensation, knowing that I will never experience this again. Yeah, you read that right - never. I. Am. So. Done.
I officially quit my gym membership, as I am clearly unable to do much physically. I am under medical orders to lie down for a portion of my workday, and find myself trying to catch my breath just sitting here. Free time is a thing of the past between the 11 hour workday (working hours + commute time), attempting to build my Mary Kay business, and the endless demands brought on by being on the baseball league board requiring 2-3 hours of responding to parents every day. (Seriously people- it's just t-ball. We aren't throwing these kids to the lions.) Oh, and my kids and husband. Housework? If you come to visit, you will see that has clearly not made the list.
What has made my list is a new perspective of priorities, an ability to go lie down and rest when the kids do, to not have an anxiety attack that the dishes aren't done, to schedule a 6 year old's birthday party out of the house, and to make sure I am taking care of myself. I don't feel guilty eating anything I want, or accepting an offer of help to load my groceries into the car when I shop. My pride has been well stowed away and I am not shy about requesting help up from the floor from whomever is nearby. I will even sit there for a few minutes until someone happens along. Watching my son giggle feeling his baby brother move in my belly, and feeling such amazing love when my younger son tells me firmly that I should not be lifting things or bending down,(then struggles for several minutes to load a case of sodas onto the shopping cart) makes me feel good. The fact that I gained 11 pounds in just 4 weeks makes me laugh, and my fetish for chunky applesauce with cinnamon continues unabated.
Life is good in so many ways, but certainly does not feel mundane.