i’m tired of being pregnant.
i have been pregnant 11 out of the last 21 months and grieving and trying the rest of those months in between. my whole life, my whole purpose, my body has been designated to this singular goal for all that time. and i’m tired.
i just want to drink a bottle of wine. maybe put a normal human size tank top on without boobalas falling out the sides of it and go walk along the beach without getting short of breath or wanting to kick a seagull.
my heels hurt and are numb all the time. i don’t sleep well. i don’t feel like myself. i am forgetful and slow-witted and my body is unrecognizable. i am extremely clumsy, meaning that i bleached one of the only shirts i own that i look moderately good in and then broke a glass light robb had JUST installed and then spilled goo gone all over the bathroom all in one horrible moment. and this kind of comedy of errors isn’t that uncommon in my typical day. my upper body strength is totally gone. that plus the whole clumsy things makes for some awesome times in the OR. and i’m tired of worrying ALL the time. will i still be pregnant tomorrow? if i wake up and i’m not, will my psyche really ever bounce back from that since i’ve so narrowly missed falling off the edge a couple times now?
i don’t want to complain. i want to be grateful and excited and floored by God’s blessing. i want to feel relief and thrill and joy.
and i do, sometimes. every time i am kicked i thank God and say, “hello, baby” and get all giggly and smiley. but i also feel exhaustion and borderline panic at all times. i have so much of my life riding on this other life. it’s scary and tiring.
thank you for listening to me moan. i apologize to anyone reading who would kill to be pregnant right now and is not. i really don’t mean to take what i have for granted. i just want to share with you all the gamut of my experiences and emotions. and this is where i’ve landed today.