I’m now one week away from turning 41 years old and T-minus 10 days from my baby shower. I finally, finally have been able to get on “the ride.” For years, I watched my friends have children, while I struggled with my fertility issues. So having a baby shower has been sort of a right of passage and I am almost there. And 41? I guess that is a right of passage too—I’m grateful to be alive and that I live in a country where my chances of being hurt on a daily basis seem to be less than most of the rest of the world. When my husband cooked some elaborate dinner the other night (sirloin steak, shrimp on the barbie, baked potatoes, golden beets and greens), I actually said grace and thought of all those others in the world who go without such bounty and are desperately in need. All that being said, I am entirely grateful for where I am at right now; so much so that I tend to feel guilty for how lucky I am.
The upside: So much of what I had worried about has not come to pass. I worried from big to little in regards to this pregnancy. First off, my baby is alive and thriving, completely normal according to her scans (may she stay that way). I could handle all the hormone shots I had to deal with during my first trimester and before. My IVF took the first time. My butt seems to have recovered from the hundreds of 3” injectibles. My constipation got better with management relatively early in the pregnancy, thus relieving my prolapse discomfort. My skin has been great. My anxiety has been manageable, mostly. My heartburn is mostly manageable. I have enjoyed intimacy with my husband. I don’t seem to have gotten the myriad of issues that can happen while pregnant (gestational diabetes, hypertension, etc.) God, am I jinxing myself here?
I’m just saying that things have been going relatively smoothly. Of course, my bad hips are keeping me up at night. My life feels taken over (again) by doctor’s appointments (chiropractics, midwives, etc.), but I have great insurance that I am entirely grateful for that (yes, there’s a theme to this post). I have been peeing like crazy (7-9 times a night) and my sleep is utterly restless. However, I have been giving myself permission to nap. And I have been very protective of myself, in terms of making sure that I have that psychological time to just be lazy, exhausted, unmotivated, etc. I don’t have other children to attend to and if I get half of my chores done, I’m calling that good.
The downside: My quest for shoes that I can slip into has been annoying and stymied, particularly as I realized that I am having to wear my shoe inserts again. They are serious, molded inserts, as I have a leg that is a half an inch or more short, and doesn’t help my pelvic instability. I have been spending a lot of money trying to keep myself comfortable, buying fancy ice packs and on the chiropractic appointments. Honestly, today, I’m feeling bitter about my sleep. Last night it was 4 hours, with having to get up twice, and then three hours awake, with two hours of sleep after that. I swear I wake this baby up constantly and won’t be able to have her in my room after she’s born. I think she’s thinking: “I can’t wait to be born so I can get some rest!” And I don’t blame her. Unfortunately for me, there is no end in sight to this lack of sleep. After four years of this nonsense my patience is wearing thin. (Can you tell this post was written on different days of the week?) Yes, hoping to get back to my extreme gratitude.
The picture is of a cute little rocking cradle a friend passed along, with sheets my mom saved from when we were babies (which I am glad I can use, as they don’t fit the standard sized cribs that they sell now). I’m really not sure that I’ll be able to sleep with the baby in my room and I really don’t think she’ll be able to sleep with me there either. Only time will tell.
Until next time…