66 days until I anticipate we will be bringing another human into this world.
Just 66 short days.
And I haven’t even started the nursery or bought much of anything.
I feel so alone in this pregnancy. Like I have to pretend to be something I’m not. Of course this is an “exciting time” and no doubt I’ll love the lil guy… But I have been so damn miserable it’s hard to even force a smile. I’m supposed to sit up straight and put on my big girl pants and fake smile and act like I’m a proud, glowing woman flourishing in pregnancy.
But I’m not.
I am in the third and final trimester of this pregnancy and I am still throwing up almost every single morning. Last week I was puking so hard that I popped a blood vessel in my eye. I could feel the veins in my face bulge as I hugged the toilet.
I fell in the rain a few months ago and definitely did something to my hip/back. I’m sure I just need to go to the chiropractor, but I’ve always been nervous about chiropractors (especially while eight months pregnant). Doc prescribed some muscle relaxers that don’t do much but make me sleepy, so sometimes I’m limping through the house barely able to move. Putting on clothes is a pain that I don’t even want to talk about. The amount of pain that I’m constantly in is taking every bit of happiness I have anymore. It just sucks it all out.
I’m looking at my ankles now and I can’t even tell where the ankle ends and foot beings. Swelling is taking over all of me.
It’s hard for me to pretend that I’m so pleased to be doing this amazing thing (don’t get me wrong, pregnancy is beautiful and life is an fascinating cycle), but I am so sick and so tired and in so much pain that I don’t have any fight left in me. I don’t have the energy to put on a fake smile. If you ask me how I’m doing, don’t get disappointed when I don’t glow and tell you all of these amaaaazing things – because it’s just not going to happen. I’m going to look at you point blank and tell you that I am not doing well and I feel like sh*t.
I am alone in feeling this way. I am trapped in this body of pain and un-comfortability. I am alone in my head trying to talk myself into pulling my leg into my pants saying, ‘it doesn’t hurt that bad.‘ But it does.
Everyone out there sees a pregnant woman and assumes the best and absolute happiness. But on the inside, I feel like a failure because I can’t resonate with that mom. I’m not the mom that loves pregnancy. It feels sad admitting that to people. I feel like the odd (wo)man out.
I love my children, but pregnancy is for the birds.