Friday, May 24, 2013

the quest for an accurate description

I've come here several times to write, only to either chicken out or decide that what I have to say is very much TMI, at least for the type of blog this has become. Finally at some point between last night and this morning, it hit me. The perfect description for what pregnancy is.

To set a base feeling: you're pretty fat and you keep on gaining. You have arthritis, carpel tunnel, and (apparently) runner's knee, even though you're not a runner and never have been.

Now, have you ever been to a chicken wing joint where they have one of those contests, an "Eat the whole plate of a dozen atomic ghost pepper wings and get your picture on the wall" type of thing? Let's say you take them up on this contest. And for every wing or two that you eat, you decide to make it more interesting by doing a shot of tequila. You get home that night and in confusion, take a big swig of what you thought was Pepto Bismol but was actually Milk of Magnesia. Or castor oil, whatever floats your boat.

The resulting aftermath--the way you feel when you wake up and for the following day(s)--is my best attempt at describing the magical miracle that is pregnancy.  Except you feel like that every night and day, sometimes all day or sometimes in (surprise!) waves, even if all you ate is water and plain toast and Zantac. You didn't even get to have any wings (let alone the tequila, heh). You can't even eat a popsicle without paying for it all night long. And you (lucky you!) get to feel like this for the better part of a year.

To every person who tells you to 'sleep while you can' and 'enjoy your time alone before baby' and 'go out with your husband and enjoy yourself,' you wish upon them much misfortune.

So, greetings, from pregnancy week 39. I'm pretty happy we decided to subscribe to cable TV a few weeks ago. It's a true friend.

If you leave a comment telling me to 'walk the baby out' I will hunt you down. Or, I would, if I didn't somehow develop a huge blister on the bottom of the arch of my foot (uh, what?) yesterday from attempting to walk less than a mile.

3 comments:

  1. I heard pregnancy described as being force-fed 3 consecutive Thanksgiving dinners and then being prohibited from pooping. Ever. Yep.

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  2. Heartburn sucks. Zantac has become my new best friend. I'm only 17 weeks along and it is getting worse, so I'm not quite sure what I'm going to the rest of the time...fun stuff!

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  3. I'm sorry it's been so rough! I'm 34 weeks along and had hyperemesis gravidarum for the first 20ish (thank GOD it cleared up, but I'm still kind of traumatized and feeling generally not awesome, and the acid reflux is excruciating at times), and I totally empathize, and your description is spot-on. The most annoying thing (besides, "Have you tried saltines?") is people saying, "Oh, you'll forget!" I think it's a nice sentiment to say it'll all be worth it in the end, but that's a little different. And those are usually the people who had super easy pregnancies with minimal symptoms.

    I hope you get at least some patches of relief here and there! And I hope your little one comes quickly and that everything else in life is smooth sailing so you can just glare at the TV and wait for it to all be over.

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