Real

I'm going to be real for just a minute. That's not to say I'm not real all of the time, but sometimes my honesty is found more in my silence than in my words. For example, I've been told by a handful of people that I don't talk much about being pregnant. Some assume this is due to it being #2 but generally people just think I'm being seclusive. Really it's neither. Haven't you ever heard, 'my mama always told me if you don't have something nice to say it's better to say nothing at all?'

Ok, That's a bit of a stretch, but not much. 

To be frank, I am not very much enjoying my pregnancy. There. I said it, in all it's ugly honesty. I feel very guilty about this for a few reasons. First and foremost, I wanted this more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. So to not be enjoying it seems to be greedy and ungrateful and just wrong. Second, for 30 weeks I loved being pregnant with William. I say 30 weeks because up until I was put on bed rest it was a cake walk. Morning sickness? Aches and pains? Food aversions? Mood swings? What in the world are people even talking about? I went about my life as if the only things that changed were my luscious hair, blemish free skin, and small little bump. Once I was on bed rest I did experience some pain and frustration but it was minimal, and the end was so close I could taste it. I loved being pregnant and thought for sure I could happily do it 3 or 4 times and keep a smile on my face.

And third, people talk about the miracle of pregnancy all of the time in the sense that you should be glowing and overjoyed and just over the moon with love and happiness.

That's not to say for one second I'm not over the moon with love. I absolutely am. And at almost 6 months I can finally start to see the end in sight - and it looks beautiful. I can almost close my eyes and imagine the sweet baby boy curled on my chest while I kiss his forehead. I'm absolutely in love with him and with the blessing of being his mom.

But being pregnant? Yeah, not so much. Not this time at least.

I hurt. All of the time, I hurt. My hips hurt, my back hurts, my pelvis hurts. It hurts most when I move - so yeah, all or the time.

I have heartburn. Forever. I have heartburn if I eat jalapeños and I have heartburn if I eat bread. I have found that it's much worse if I eat the following:

Spicy food

Mexican food

Red pasta sauce

Red onions

Chocolate

Cheese

So - yeah, my favorite foods. It's a difficult choice - minimize my pain (never eliminating it) or enjoy the food I'm eating? Tough call. I know I'll get it no matter what, so it's hard to really convince myself to curb my eating, though I probably should.

I'm huge. Huge is a relative term and I get that. I was smaller than my doctor wanted at this point in my first pregnancy so comparing isn't really fair, and I get that too. But I feel like I'm 8 months along, not 6. I have 3 more??? How? Where will it go? How is it that every other pregnant person in the world sports a cute little bump while I am growing a blue whale?

As you can see, I don't have a lot of nice things to say. I have a lot of griping. A lot of whining. And honestly, it just makes me mad how negative I am. As I type this, someone somewhere is crying because she just found out - one more month - that she's not pregnant. And here I am complaining about all of the things she'd give anything to experience. Ridiculous! 

I know we are all entitled to experience pregnancy in our own ways, and I know each pregnancy is different. I know that my physical misery right now is nothing compared to the joy I have for the blessing of baby boy #2. I know that 3-4 months from now I won't even remember what pelvic pain felt like, nor will I care. Even as I endure it I know it's worth it. It's worth it - a million times over.

But I don't like it. And I don't like that I don't like it. You with me?

So forgive me for not documenting my conversion into a whale. And forgive me for silently enduring the less than fun parts of pregnancy. And forgive me, please forgive me, for the pity party I just forced you to join in on. Please forgive me.

I am beyond thankful and beyond blessed, it's just not been the most pleasant path to the finish line. But that's ok, I'd do it all again - and likely will. So the complaining will be kept to a minimum.

And here you go. 

P.s. 23 weeks was clearly my prime.