I swear if I hear “babies come when they come” one more time I’m going to scream. Or throw up on whomever decided that was what I needed to hear at 39 weeks, because luckily for me, I still get super nauseous if I’m not on zofran. I’ll be even more annoyed if one more person tells me that “they went all the way to 50 weeks, so how do I think they felt?” (Okay that’s a slight exaggeration, but for some reason any time I talk about being tired or uncomfortable someone else feels the need to tell me that they have been more tired and more uncomfortable and I really can’t deal with it anymore).
I feel like I’ve been pregnant for a thousand years and I still have a week left until my actual due date. I’m physically exhausted, mentally drained, and an emotional hot mess. I have a list of things to do and I’ve hardly done any of them. I feel like I’m living in a bubble of anxiety fueled exhaustion.
This is the part of being pregnant I think they talk about the most, but maybe is the easiest to forget. I remember being nauseous and tired in the first trimester with Easton- I knew that I would be there again. I knew that around the 2nd trimester my energy would come back, my nausea would continue but be less painful, and there would be the excitement of first baby kicks and finding out if we were having a boy or girl. I remembered being tired in the third trimester, but not this freaking exhausted.
Every day I’m literally rolling out of bed, trying to pretend I don’t feel like crap during my waking hours, and then getting back into bed knowing I’m not going to sleep at all. Easton has decided that he doesn’t need to sleep anymore, and the last few nights between the hours of 2am & 5am have been a fun game of wrangling my toddler back in bed and trying to go back to sleep. If you’ve never been pregnant before, just know that getting back to sleep is almost impossible. You’ll inevitably need to pee ten minutes later, and then you’ll end up sitting awake death glaring your husband for hours- even though he can’t do anything. Because nobody can do anything. Because “babies come when they come”.
The worst part of it all, is knowing that after the baby comes I’m still not going to be back to normal. I’ve tried really hard to remember what it was like with Easton, but honestly I don’t. Maybe the first few weeks you’re just so tired that your memory doesn’t soak it in. Or maybe because I only had Easton, I didn’t feel it hit me as hard as I’m afraid I will now when I have so many other responsibilities.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I am so happy to be bringing another little boy into our family and I can’t wait for him to be here. More than anything, I’m excited to meet him and hold him and love on him. But right now in the middle of the waiting game I’m starting to go just a little bit crazy.
I really don’t want to be a debbie downer and write these long, complainy blog posts. But I also don’t think you can really share your life without having these rambly, self-indulgent blog posts every once in a while.
Anyway, I think I’ve rambled on long enough. Have a happy Wednesday everyone! Hopefully next time I see you I’ve had a baby.