Pregnancy Sucks

There, I said it.

Yes, I know we are lucky to have a second child on the way, especially given my Advanced Maternal Age. And yes it will all be worth it when I hold the little bugger in my hands a month from now. But at 35 weeks along, I swear I am ready to scrub up and perform the c-section myself.

I am aware that there are plenty of women out there who just loved being pregnant and sailed right through with no more than an amused shrug toward their Flintstone Feet, saggy pants and gas. I just happen to think that they are all either incredibly lucky to have had minimal symptoms, or they are clinically insane. Either way, I take my hat off to them. Which, by the way, is the only garment that still fits.

Again, for those who may rush to judge a blog entry by its title, let me repeat that I know I’m lucky to be pregnant and I know it will all be worth it and quickly forgotten in the end. My first pregnancy also sucked, but it was worth every second and unquestionably the most important and wonderful thing I’ve ever done. I get all that. It’s just that the physical symptoms of pregnancy suck enough to merit some venting, no?

Ok then, here we go.

1: My stomach is so painfully distended that it feels like I might literally rip open at any moment.
2: My ugly, over-priced maternity clothes don’t even cover my belly anymore.
3: I grow weary of watching everyone else savor sushi, mojitos, ceviche and that fancy cheese over there, while I sip my fizzy water and feign happiness.
4: My pants won’t stay up.
5: I cannot tie my own shoes.
6: Every time I attempt to fall asleep at night, my baby boy (whom shall now be given the pseudonym “The Edge”) insists on moving around so spastically that I’ve begun to suspect he has somehow gotten hold of an ice cream scoop and is plotting to scrape his way out. Then when I do fall asleep (often more than an hour later), I wake up because I have to pee and the whole charade begins again.
7: My feet are stinky. Ok, my feet have always been stinky, but as long as we’re venting…
8: I still get bouts of nausea, which at this point just seems a tad ridiculous.
9: Carrying a basket of laundry wears me out. Put this in the context that I used to be athletic enough to walk across the end zone at Michigan Stadium on my hands and you’ll maybe understand why this is particularly insulting.
10: I am gigantic.

There. Now that that’s out of the way, I hereby vow not to vent again about pregnancy symptoms on this blog.

Stay tuned for future venting about baby poop.