I've had the most amazing pregnancy ever. Not a single complaint surrounded my perfect first and second trimester, free of vomit, sleepless nights, major weight gain, aches, pains and frustrations. My barely there belly was sort of low and distorted, but other than that, I was on cloud nine.
And still am.
But suddenly, at the wake of my third trimester and the graduation of hitting double digits before this little love arrives, I've acquired the pregnancy jackpot.
My regular clothes no longer fit, and I have trouble breathing when I bend down to put my shoes on. I have this strange cramping pain in my upper back-but only on the right side-every night after 6pm. And suddenly it's normal to look down in constant horror at my swollen feet, ankles, and knees. The flesh around my ribcage is sore to the touch, most likely because I'm expanding rapidly as my used to be low rider uterus is deciding to work it's way up into my abdomen, and someone pointed out the dark slash on my face as being a pregnancy mask.
And is it just me, or is it a little insane to gain seven pounds in a week?
I could blame it on the sudden massive bodily water retention, but that sort of sounds like a really lame excuse.
I can't wait to see what the doctor says about this. Hopefully he'll look past it all and just marvel at how I passed my two hour glucose test with flying colors last week (and then celebrated with a frappachino). Maybe he'll be nice and tell me that it's normal to become a whale overnight. Or if I'm lucky, he'll find a surprise second baby hidden in there somewhere, explaining all of this madness and granting us a sort of buy-one-get-one-free deal.
I could get really upset about this weight gain, because all joking aside, this really is very bad. And I could get frustrated with the fact that I've jumped-no, flew-from the barely pregnant stage to the other side of the tracks in a matter of seven days.
But I have to remember that my body is being invaded by a precious, tiny little human. And while that's no excuse to harm us both with excessive weight gain, it's understandable that things may happen to my body that are out of my control. I knew it was only a matter of time before this season of perfection came to and end, and was replaced with the normal aches and pangs-and extra fluid-of pregnancy.
So I refuse to starve myself in attempt to loose those sudden seven pounds, but I will eat better. And I will not run myself into the ground as a form of punishment, but I will commit to at least thirty minutes of physical activity every day. And I will marvel at how quickly my body is able to change shape, enjoy the way it feels to waddle, and take pride in the fact that my used-to-be-too-skinny-feet are now filling out nicely.
Because I asked for this.
"Feeling fat last nine months, but the joy of becoming a mom lasts forever."