Tuesday, November 02, 2010

a letter to my belly, take two

Dear Pregnancy,

Man, what can I say? I would like to say that you and I have finally actually come to an uneasy truce, but mostly I think that means that you have beaten me into submission. Uh, yes. I just checked and it actually DOES mean that you have beaten me into submission. I came into our second encounter thinking that I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I think I actually said that to Somebody on several occasions: "It's okay. Pregnancy with Gulliver was rough, but this time at least I know what I'm getting into. And I go there willingly." Willingly. Nine months of daily nausea that wakes me in the middle of the night, every night, is something I know how to live with. Fine. Bring it on. And I was at least mostly prepared for the exhaustion and the random emotional outbursts. Even the side effects of the nausea medication, while occasionally horrifically painful, I was expecting and planning to grit my teeth and live through. Perhaps you saw my resolve and figured I needed a little humbling.

I understand that you are just trying to keep me on my toes (or knock me completely to my knees) by shaking things up a little this time. However, did you have to throw in only BAD new things? Three straight months of the dreaded pregnancy migraines? Are you even kidding me? And then six weeks of freakishly painful sciatica that, quite literally, left me crumpled in tears on multiple occasions? And then oral thrush? Twice? What gives, Pregnancy? Is there no one else out there you wanted to make question whether or not they could actually physically endure another meeting with you?

Okay, okay, so there were some parts of this pregnancy that were actually better than last time. I know, right? Like, this time I have been able to sleep in my own bed, on either side OR on my back, for the entire nine months. Last time, remember?, I was banished to the couch early in month seven because the nerve pain that shot down my legs after only ten minutes in bed left me unable to lift either leg or cope with the pain. But I found that one position on the couch that involved multiple pillows propping my legs up just so and after that I was able to sleep without pain. I don't miss the couch. Thanks for that. And this time, Pregnancy, you spared me the hair trauma. No dandruff. No greasy buildup. Just normal, healthy hair. And, I hate to admit it, but after an initial few months of unacceptable acne flareups, I think that my skin and hair actually look better than before pregnancy. Shut the front door, I could almost kiss you. Also the fact that this time I have actually been able to wear my watch and wedding ring up until, well, now, is like a little miracle. I'm grasping at straws, perhaps, to find the good in you. Just call me Pollyanna.

Which brings us, Pregnancy, to our last weeks together. Are you going to miss me? It should come as no surprise that I will NOT miss you. Up until the final moments of our journey together I will grin and bear it, this life with you, because you make possible this little Mushu that will soon join our family. Once he is here, though, it's okay if you don't want to call for awhile. I think we need some space. Think about seeing other people, will you? I...hope...tentatively...that perhaps we will meet again. You could help that decision by lightening the load a little bit, you know? Like, maybe less swelling of the feet? Is that asking too much? I didn't think so.



byufish said...

I love you. I love your writing style. I love your honesty. I love especially that I was NEVER pregnant. I think. Just call ME Pollyanna!! Can't wait for MUSHU pictures.

Janssen said...

Yikes! Knock it off, pregnancy - I need to see more Jennifer/Sungti children in the future.