I wrote a whiney blog post on Monday night.
I decided to skip it Tuesday.
That has essentially been my blog routine now for two months or so.
Decide its too much for internet.
I didn’t post it Tuesday because I was thinking I’d try to take a picture on Wednesday.
And then Wednesday morning, 5:00am, I woke up to a LOUD thunderstorm, complete with hail.
I think the baby could hear it ,or feel it. (I actually think I woke up from the air pressure shift, before it really let loose. It was one of those storms that just carries that really freaky vibe with it.) But the baby was really, really kicking around in there. And I wasn’t about to fall back asleep. And as predicted the girls woke up too. Blake and I tried to go back to sleep in their beds, but gave up at 6:30 and got up. This lead to me not even attempting to get dressed or put on make up. And… to me taking two naps for the day -- one before Blake left for work, and one during Ruby’s nap. (This pregnancy wakes for no storm -- and if it has to, it needs severe make-up sleep.) So I haven’t bothered getting a picture today.
Honestly I don’t feel like the belly’s in a rush to grow right now. (Which is good, since it was early on.) So you aren’t missing much.
So anyway here goes nothing on this week’s post…
(It’s still whiney -- just hopefully not obnoxious.)
This week I’m nauseous. Less nauseous than before. But it’s still nausea.
In my last two pregnancies. I had normal, by the book, first trimester nausea. I was nauseous from weeks 6 to 14 on the nose. I never threw up. But I was just really tummy yucky all the time. And EVERYTHING smelled gross. And of course I was tired. But week 14 was magic, it wasn’t overnight that it left, but there was a clear major improvement over that week. And for sure by week 15 I was kissing first trimester goodbye --- nothing but a memory. Hello “I feel like me, only with a tiny bump.”
So that said. Week 13, was usually quite hard because I was burnt out from two months of being totally grossed out by everything. That week I was really hoping the neausea would leave early, and... it was sorta less bad, but I was still very first trimestery. It was right around then that I thought, "I’m just not up for this. Someone wake me up when I’m through this -- it’s not worth it."
I’d say, I’m feeling very "week 13" right now.
I’m not as sick as before. But I’m still sick. And I’m really stinking tired in general but also even more so from being sick for so long.
The big problem is, I’ve been living "weeks 9 and 10" (You know the ones where you think, “This is just total Sucksville", and your really in the thick of things) for what feels like my whole life. Seeing as how this "week 13" of mine is actually week 28. (Leaking into 29.) which means something like 24 weeks of Sucksville. (That’s a solid six months.) (I left out month one, because I think I made it through the first couple weeks ok. And technically the first half of month one isn’t even pregnant.)
The other problem here is, I have no faith that there will ever be a week 14 or 15. Perhaps just an eternal week 13 till baby comes. Or maybe I'll even wind up right back into week 9 or 10. Or a fun combo. (Or maybe even some more fun twists like another faux sprained ankle?) Maybe, just maybe I’ll cross over into my third trimester. But who knows. Maybe I’ll somehow live an entire pregnancy inside the first.
So that general burn out that I’m used to week 13 bringing with it -- experiencing it right now is like 767,363,476,843 times more intense.
That absurdly intense burn-out wants me to write some very crabby things in this update.
My small sliver of brain that’s still vaguely alive (which is shoved in some dark closet of the back of my mind, and I’m pretty sure is only alive because of life support) might be whispering in a horse cracking voice something about how it would be less than ideal to do that.
Functioning with only a small sliver of a brain left, one that’s barely hanging on by a thread, that’s a new form of existence for me. I don’t recommend it.
I don’t completely see how I’m gonna get to the end of this pregnancy with a dead brain. I mean even if I start physically feeling phenomenal, this experience is proving to provide a lot of emotional baggage I didn’t anticipate dealing with. I’m not quite sure how to think about life even on the few days I have felt ok. This pregnancy has really thrown me, like on a deep level.
So, that said...
Pray this baby wants to shoot for 38 weeks. 42 is my going rate -- and that just doesn’t even seem like ironically-evil-funny-fair. It just feels like cruel and unusual after all this.
If you are praying for me, please just start praying now, that for once I go early. (Not too early, just right early -- 38 weeks.)
So we are clear -- my uterus is made of steel (I had quality contractions, often timetable to every 5 mins, much the time for a month and a half before Ruby was finally born)-- so I’m pretty sure having a baby exit my body before 42 weeks, is only a remote possibility if everyone prays, and prays TONS. Otherwise my uterus is all, “I’ll never let go, Jack. I’ll never let go.”
And well, also, if your praying, pray for my brain. I’d like it back in once piece.
Cause well, I think I’ll need it back to survive newborn days. (I’m pretty nervous, guys. I don’t really know how to imagine going straight from this state into sleepless nights, and 3 kids, and...not to mention postpartum body, all over again. I get that I will physically start improving. I’m just really nervous about my brain.)