I have turned into THAT pregnant lady. The one I never thought I would be, the one I never foresaw coming, the one I really, really, really don’t want to be. But I find that no matter how much I don’t want to be that woman I can’t actually stop myself being that woman!
I am crabby, I am sooky, I find myself constantly moaning, bitching and whinging. I know I am no fun for anyone, there is no sunshine bursting forth, no pregnant woman glow. I am sure people are sick of hearing me complain, listening to my bemoaning my situation, reading my negative texts. I know there are people in worse situations than me. Intellectually I know it’s not much longer and I can do it. However physically and emotionally I DON’T know any of this. I don’t feel it and no matter how much I try to logic myself into feeling it I just can’t. And I HATE it and really dislike myself for not being able to change it.
I have my reasons for feeling this way but truly I feel pathetic because they are pathetic and there are people living real problems that have it far worse than me. I could blame the hormones, but really what a cop out.
I am in agony. I mean true never ending agony, in the lower half of my body. I walk like I am just learning and a shuffle is the extent of my ability to move. Standing hurts, moving hurts, sitting hurts, lying down hurts. I take Panadol to help but it does nothing. I can’t take Panadeine Forte because I have a low tolerance and can’t pass out with a 4 year old in the house. This pain affects my ability to sleep and I find myself waking a few times a night having to get up and wander around to loosen up.
I am EXHAUSTED. The type of exhaustion that comes from being in agony all day every day for over a month mixed with an unhealthy dose of being unable to sleep. I’m existing on approximately 4 – 5 hours a night, broken of course. Between the constant urinating, the loosening up, the hand swelling that needs to be run under water, it doesn’t leave too much time for sleep. Then there is the insomnia that kicks in when I go to bed. The exhaustion I feel does not equal the ability to actually go to sleep.
One of the worst things is the tears. I find myself crying on and off during the day. Sometimes I know why, sometimes I don’t. I find when I speak to hubby on the phone I get off and then cry. I am lonely. I wish he was home all the time because when he’s here I feel less emotional. He is my rock and so supportive. But someone has to work. This is also in no way me trying to secretly complain about my friends. They are amazing and supportive. But people work, have lives, and other commitments. I also don’t want to be the needy friend who can’t leave the house but expects everyone to be at my beck and call.
I am housebound because even using the crutches it hurts to walk and I don’t get far because the pain gets too much or I get exhausted. I leave for Kinder drop offs and pick ups, and hospital appointments. I am finding driving is becoming hard and am hoping I can continue to the end just for these short trips.
But in all honesty I know what the biggest cause is. It is the blatant disregard that I am being shown by most medical professionals I have the “pleasure” to deal with. I leave appointments, and more recently emergency, feeling as if I don’t exist. That my person has been relegated to a baby baking machine (or an incubator as per this post) and that my needs, health and suffering are of no consequence. It is demoralising to know health care professionals can actually see the pain and exhaustion I am suffering, comment on it, and yet also disregard it out of hand. It is hurtful to hear a doctor answer my husbands question of “how much does she need to suffer” with an answer that amounts to “as long as the twins are OK who cares”. It is frustrating to hear that EASTER is the reason why I must wait a week longer in pain than is usual and to hear one of my obstetricians discuss a woman due the day before me being shown consideration and being given a date much earlier than mine, a woman with no complications at all. It makes me feel as if I don’t matter. It also makes me feel as if I am being selfish if I so much as think of complaining about anything that is occurring in my body.
The worst feeling I am suffering though is guilt. The guilt of not being able to parent my 4 year old daughter the way I want. That I can not fully be there for her in the way she deserves. I feel guilt and shame about the decline in the appearance of my home and that the onus of the upkeep falls to my husband who already does so much and takes on more than he really should have to. I feel I am letting down the two people who mean the most to me, no matter how understanding they are, how supportive, how loving. Sometimes that just makes me feel worse.
And all of the above are the things that I whinge, moan and complain about. These are the things I am sick of experiencing, sick of sharing, sick of living. It’s all too much at the moment and I am really not handling it all that well. I know how I feel is not healthy or productive. It is not helpful but it is also not something I seem to be able to help. I know it is not normal to feel this way and will raise it with someone at my next appointment but am not confident I will be heard. I wish I could just snap out of this funk, brush it off and get over it. I wish it was that easy. I also wish that a part of me, a strong part, did not get so disappointed in my current state, did not want to slap it out of me. Usually I am so strong, so confident, so together (if only outwardly) and I am proud. Usually too proud to even admit that I am not coping. Usually I will say I am fine when I am not because I find it easier to deal on my own, or with my husband who in all honesty is the only person I would usually share so much with (no use hiding it he can always see it, he knows me too well inside and our). I am also scared of being judged, of appearing weak.
This post, although cathartic, scares me more than anything I have written. This post is the absolute commitment to my promise about my blog, my reasons for writing a blog. This post reflects me truly in this moment and is more honest than I have been with most people around me lately. There are parts people close to me know, the people I trust to listen and not judge (not that others will, the trust issue is mine alone) but this is it all laid out bare in one setting. This post scares me so much it is currently a draft set to publish later in the week. I need time to be brave or to decide this post was just for me, to vent.
I hope I am brave enough to share and that you get to read this …
I have decided to post this because for weeks this is how I have been feeling. Today however, I am feeling more positive. In 2 weeks the bubbas will be here, the weather was beautiful today, and even though I am in a lot of pain I have also managed to remember those things for which I am grateful. I hope this change stays.
Thank you to Wildchildonboard for saving this post. It somehow deleted but not before it was sent to her Feeddler RSS app. I owe you. It wasn’t until it was gone that I realised no matter how mixed up my emotions were about it and sharing it, it was important to me!