Another whiney post. Feel free to skip it.
The pregnancy gods have smiled on me in certain areas. Thus far I have had zero problems getting pregnant, mostly text book pregnancies with no serious complications or conditions, I have beautiful healthy babies, I have fairly uncomplicated deliveries and fairly standard recoveries.
But that’s pretty much where it stops. What I don’t understand is why all of the “normal” bad stuff all gets dumped on me. I don’t think I’d be so bitter if it happened to everyone, but it doesn’t. In fact, I have several friends who can fit into their skinny pants a month after they deliver. Me? I’m 18 weeks and already 10 lbs away from tipping the scales past what I have ever weighed before in my past pregnancies. I already weight almost as much as Matt.
I have one friend who can always tell when she is pregnant because a peaceful calm descends upon her mind and she has so much more patience and compassion than she normally does. Me? My husband cringes when I walk into the room and my children flee at the sound of my voice.
Not everyone has morning sickness, not everyone is so tired that they need to sleep 12 hours a night AND take a nap during the day. Not everyone’s reaction to any small emotional stimulus (such as a commercial or a when my daughter draws me a picture) is to cry for the next 3 hours.
I get the leg cramps, I get the runny noses and the drool and all the other stuff I have already complained about.
And this time, I get to ride the fine line between the things that make me sick now and the things that made me sick before I got pregnant. The best things for me to eat are fruits and veggies, and yet the only things that sit well are meat, eggs and cheese. Last night I had maple sausage links for dinner and I just finished making chocolate chip cookies (a craving I’ve had since Sunday). Such things are not conducive to a slow and steady weight gain.
To top it off, When I exercise (be it biking or Jillian video) my insides feel like they are going to fall out of my lady parts for the rest of the day. So apparently I can’t do anything more vigorous than a walk… which I don’t currently have time for.
I guess I need to just look towards the future. In just over 5 months I’ll still look like a whale, but at least I’ll be able to be nice again and as this is our last child (unless the Spirit screams at us later on) I should be able to get my skinny body back for good. I’ve made it a goal to do an Ironman Triathlon two years after the baby is born. That’s right. IRONMAN. 2.5 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and then a 26.2 mile run. Hard core huh? I’ll give myself a year to get back in fighting shape, and then a year to train. Matt’s going to do it with me.
Just talking about the triathlon is making me feel better. But then I go to put on my fat pants in the morning and they are too tight. Depressing.
Andyway. Sorry to be a whiner.