woe is me...

I've seen, and read, and follow blogs. "Mom" blogs. By moms who are having their first, or second babies. {Sometimes even 3rd or 4th.} These mom's continue blogging, joyfully, and cheerfully, all the way up to the 40th, and in some cases 41st week of their pregnancy. Posting photos of their ginormo bellies, somehow still looking gorgeous and refreshed. Somehow smiling. I am not that person. I am just not that mom. {Or that blogger.} I'm just not.

My blog name has the word "nazi" in it, so that should clue you in to that fact that I'm not a sunshine and rainbows kind of person to begin with. So even I don't think I could ever be that mom, or that blogger. It's just not in my genetic make-up.

Ladies and gents, I'm freaking miserable. I'm so miserable, that I'm past the whole "caring" that other people have it worse, and would love to trade places with me. I really. Don't. Care. {Okay, I DO care. A little bit.} I am thankful that I'm still baking my little cupcake, and not sitting by his side in the NICU praying he reaches the next milestone, praying he passes the next test. I am thankful that I have been blessed with the ability to carry children when some woman have had that stolen from them. I am thankful that despite a high-risk pregnancy, I am not on bed rest, and taking medication with horrifying side effects in hopes of just staying pregnant a little longer.

Those things are the only things that are getting me by. Otherwise I would just be spending the next 29 days in bed. And even though I've been contemplating it, and it's oh-so-tempting, I'm not. I'm going to get up and out of bed and feel thankful. No matter how miserable I am.

I'm just so miserable. More so than I thought I would ever feel while still having SO much time to go. {4 weeks1 day OR 29 days.} My pelvis, back, and hips, {especially my left hip} are in so much pain. It's excruciating at times. I'm not a big dramatic, OW OW OW person, and still it has literally brought me to my knees in "owness", causing a big dramatic wail and/or screech/holler of pain. It's wretched. My doctor blames an abundance of prostaglandin's or some $#it. Something your body releases to loosen your pelvis so that you can more easily pass your watermelon sized baby through your not-so-watermelon sized pelvis. And this is bull$#it because I'm not even going to be pushing my watermelon out. My body should friggin' KNOW this and cut me some freaking slack. But does it? Hell no. Instead it leaves me in agony.

I'll spare the rest of the gory details, like lightning crotch, and how I feel like Grayson's head is going to pop out if I stand too quickly, or the ripping sensation I get in and around my cesarean scars, the heartburn that is burning through my esophugus, {It's a wonder it hasn't burnt completely through by now, leaving me with an opening straight to my throat hole. I feel like I'm thisclose to using a robotic voicebox.} the constant hunger cravings without the ability to eat what I wish, starving, but feeling full after 5 bites, then starving again 15 minutes later, peeing then feeling like I have to pee again before I even make it out of the bathroom, waking up in fear that my bladder will burst, taking several minutes to roll to a position in which I can actually get to a sitting position and get out of my bed {without waking up Mel with my moans of pain}. Yea... I'll spare you.

I wasn't even able to enjoy a gift of a pampering afternoon pedicure. Driving to the pedicure was misery in 90 degree weather without a/c, but I was so enthusiastic to have this much needed relaxing experience I pushed through, not caring how hot and sweaty I was. I couldn't even sit all the way through my pedicure without pain. And having to position my toesies and feetsies so that she could massage and paint them was not an easy feat. Even while sitting in a chair that was heated and massaging I couldn't get comfortable, and because I can't even touch my knees together, I had to maneuver myself in a way that she could do one foot at a time. It was embarrassing. And not the experience I hoped for in the slightest. And I'm pretty sure that the paint on my toes are going to be chipped and my heels will be once again be crusty by the time L&D time rolls around. Which also defeats the purpose of the pedi. {I swear your feet become crusty twice as fast in pregnancy.}

I am taking comfort in the fact that we are now officially in June and that sometime this month, even if it's the 30th, I WILL meet my little boy and this will all be a distant and quickly forgotten memory. {I hope it's not completely forgotten, I will need these memories every time I long for another newborn to hold and cuddle.}

I feel like I'm back tracking to the time when I was throwing up and nauseated 24/7. I'm just not up for blogging. All I can think about and talk about is having this baby, and being pregnant. I have found my posts becoming further apart. So the blog may be a little dead over the next month. But I will pop in here and there for an update or two, or at least try to.

Mostly I will just be trying to stay busy, and out of bed.

Wish me luck folks and please send positive thoughts and prayers my way! 29 days can seem like a loooooooong time when you're in misery.

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