It's the truth.
John David feels as if he weighs 16 tons.
At least that what my back, sciatica-nerve, feet and stomach muscles are telling me.
It doesn't help that he never. stops. moving. When he does, I get nervous. And then he goes right back to beating me up inside. Phew.
Also, all my energy is concentrated into the hours before noon. Once lunch-time comes around, I'm pretty useless. I can't breath, walk, or climb the 16 stairs (oh, yes, I've counted...what else do I have to do with my time while illegally loitering on those things?) in order to get to the bathroom. So if I've got anything important to do, it needs to be scheduled prior to 11:59 AM. Otherwise, I'm in a daze, sitting on the couch, watching DVD after DVD of Elmo's world with my daughter (a parenting-pattern I'm not proud of, but what's an exhausted 32 week preggers to do??)
My husband pointed out I've become quite the complainer in the past month (in spite of my current clean bill of health - yaye(!) for good reports from my OB - still NO preeclamsia). And I recognize this all too well. The funny thing is, I don't actually tell him about all the discomforts I am actually feeling in a day (for fear of becoming a "Debbie-Downer"). But it looks like I've hit that persona out of the park.
I had a good friend of mine put this all into perspective for me while we ate muffins and drank coffee at Panera Bread one Saturday morning (oh yea! girly-time without boys or babies!)...
"9 months of discomfort would be worth it
for those who experience
years of emotional pain
because they can't conceive at all."
Even not knowing what it's like to deeply yearn for the offspring I'll never produce,
I would have to agree,
So does John David still feel like 16 tons?
But it's an emotional relief I'll never fully appreciate.
And for that, I am not complaining.