1 Mother 2 Another

Halcyon Days my Aunt Fanny.

Yes, I’m enjoying my last few weeks with Maddie. Yes, they are precious. Yes, I know they’ll never come again and should be savored.

On the other hand, enough with the pregnancy already.

I spent last week watching my ankles get steadily bigger, until I could no longer see my ankle bones at all. Mildly concerned because I didn’t really have swelling my last pregnancy, I called my OB and got my butt chewed out for not keeping off my feet enough and not calling her sooner. As she tossed around words like “preeclampsia” I hastily dropped to the floor and threw my legs in the air, swearing I’d never stand up again if that’s what it took.

Obviously, it turned out to be nothing, and now I work hard to make sure I am actually elevating my feet enough to help my circulation. Blood pressure’s fine, peanut’s still growing, and my OB on Friday was crooning with satisfaction at how I’m going. Now that I’m 36 weeks she’s happy and a bit more relaxed.

Now that I’m 36 weeks, I’m friggen’ tired.

While walking the two miles a day to the park and back, chasing Maddie all over the playground, and playing soccer with her may be good for my circulation, it’s pretty crappy on poor Mommy’s bod. I get tired – not sleepy tired, just a body exhaustion that makes you want to plop down on the couch and drink sweet tea all day while reading magazines (books would be too much work). And while my feet may no longer resemble a pachyderm’s, there’s still swelling and it ain’t pretty. Add to that the lower back nerve pain that’s almost always there, the continuously open esophageal valve (I mean, if I wanted to taste my dinner at 11 p.m., I’d get out of bed and fix a plate! Give me a break!!), the stomach muscles stretched beyond endurance, and I’m ready to be done with this thing.

I consider myself a reasonably fit person: after all, I’m a Pilates teacher by trade. But when singing “Twinkle Twinkle” leaves me huffing and puffing, when scooching my butt up onto the playground equipment is no longer an option because my butt NO LONGER FITS, when getting up off the floor is a little floor show of its own, I can no longer pretend to be one of those in-shape mommies who do their daily yoga. After all, just trying to bend over while seated and pick up a piece of food that Maddie’s dropped is an exercise in creativity and flexibility. Sometimes I just want to take off my belly like a movie prop, set it aside and get some things done, and then strap it back on again.

And finally, I miss the old mommy that I used to be, and think Maddie does too. I’m no longer crawling everywhere after her, running so energetically, creeping through tunnels, tossing her about and flying her in “airplanes”. Sometimes I see her surveying the room, weighing her play options, and when she looks at me assessingly I can practically hear the “boring” verdict being issued.

I remember when my girlfriend Abby was pregnant with her second child and got to this stage. She said to me, “I can’t wait to just have this baby already so I can stop being so dang tired.” Having a three-month-old at the time myself, I thought Abby’d lost it and clearly forgotten how little sleep you get in those first few months. Now, though, I understand what she means: it’s not the craving for sleep you’ve got now, it’s the craving for a body you’ve got some control over and options with.

Yes, I know, this entry will come back to bite me in the butt. When peanut’s two weeks old and I’m a zombie I’ll be throwing a shoe through the monitor as I reread this. So for now I’ll just say I can’t wait for a time when my feet don’t pulse with extra fluid and I can actually sit with my knees together, no room for belly needed.

Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to go put my feet up. Again.