"I think I'm in for a hellish third trimester."
Mark my words. I spoke them to Todd this morning as I wobbled my way down the hallway during our morning scramble to prepare for the day.
As much as I've whined, OH HAVE I WHINED, I've been fairly fortunate throughout this pregnancy. That's not to diminish how difficult the hormones and emotions were in the first couple months or how the heartburn ravages my soul, but beyond that, I'm pretty alright.
But as I creep nearer to the end and into the home stretch, my body continues to remind me THAT IT'S HAD BETTER DAYS, OKAY?
Pregnancy carpal tunnel. Who knew? Not me. But every night while I sleep my hands go numb and I repeatedly wake up to shake the life back into them.
Every time I wake up, I have to reposition myself. Every time I reposition myself, I hiccup. Exactly one hiccup. Every time.
I am sick of lying on my left side. I AM SICK OF IT. By the time I wake up, my left side is a mess of ache and sweat and misery. "Just roll to your right side for a little bit," Todd recommends. I would, except the effort required to completely switch from one side to the other is beyond my capabilities in the middle of the night. Or ever.
Plus I'll hiccup. And it's hard to push myself up with my hands (since I can't use my abs) when I can't feel my hands.
If my numb hands aren't waking me up, my heartburn is. I lie real still when it happens because I'm never sure when the flaming bile may actually erupt from my mouth rather than disintegrate my esophagus.
Plus, as I mentioned, repositioning myself is too much work.
Then the hiccup.
Food doesn't fit into my body anymore. I ate dinner at a Mexican restaurant last night (lord yes), and by this morning I still hadn't recovered. It's like the food had nowhere to go within my midsection, so it just sat in my chest for 12 hours. Eating full meals is hard. I've discovered small, regular snacking is more successful for my digestive tract. And life.
When you have an entire Mexican meal weighing heavily and intensely in your chest, lying down in miserable. MISERABLE. I had to regularly take deep breaths to assure I was both alive and keeping the miniature chimichanga inside my body. And that is not even a euphemism for the baby. It was an actual miniature chimichanga.
I'm hot. All the time. I just lie down and sweat. I am a walking swamp.
My fingers and feet don't look swollen, but they feel swollen. My wedding ring has about a half-day shelf life before needing to be replaced it with a silicone band. Fuck July.
Pregnancy gingivitis. My gums are no longer strangers to regular bleeding. I went to the dentist for a cleaning this morning and was assured it's completely normal. My gums are simply more swollen than normal, but otherwise still pink and healthy. I simply need to maintain regular maintenance of my mouth, and it'll go back to normal after the baby is born.
THAT SAID, my dental cleaning this morning was a goddamn nightmare. THE BLOOD. THE BLOODENING. As the hygienist scraped and prodded at all my oral nooks and crannies, I could feel the blood pooling in my mouth. His suction tool filled bright red every time he cleaned the saliva from my gaping pie hole. I COULD SEE THE BLOOD ON HIS GLOVES AS HE WORKED TO FLOSS MY TEETH.
Dude's just like, "This is fine, totally normal," and I'm wondering if Todd really is going to win big on my life insurance policy when I bleed out in the chair.
I'm finding my pelvis the slightest bit more sore after every run, seeing as how baby boy weighs two pounds now and also spends his free time raving in my womb and hosting weight lifting competitions. Plus the bump is growing exponentially. I have bump sweat now.
Apparently pregnancy can also play games with your vision, and I've been finding my own vision to be totally whack the last several days. To be fair to pregnancy, this may be the result of swapped contact lenses after potentially losing my mind and forgetting my left from right. Which I can probably blame on pregnancy brain.
So, really, pregnancy is to blame for everything. When I'm no longer pregnant, it will be unfortunate to have run out of things to blame for being uncomfortable and dumb.
THANKFULLY I HAVE ALMOST THREE MORE MONTHS OF INCREASING DISCOMFORT AND STUPIDITY.
This is all a blessing.
BRB I can't feel my fingers.