Week 35

I've decided that for the last four weeks of this pregnancy, I'm going to document each week, following that week's doctor's appointment.  While I do have something of an update from my appointment on Monday, this is mostly going to be a cathartic post.

My appointment on Monday went well.  Luke looks good, and Dr. Davis estimated his weight at 7 pounds.  It will be interesting to see how accurate these ultrasound measurements actually are!  I was also treated to a Group B Strep swab as well as a cervical check.  Both of which Danny and I thought were completely unnecessary considering our scheduled cesarean, but both of us were too tired to argue.

We were able to get on the calendar for the c-section.  Looks like unless he decides to come early, Luke will be born on Tuesday, May 22 at around 7:30 am!  That's only 2 days before my due date, and that day works best for Danny's time off.  We're feeling pretty good about that day.

And that's about the only thing I feel good about these days!  And that's even a conflicted point for me.  Ok, people, prepare yourself for the catharsis of an emotional and exhausted pregnant woman! :)  I'm really ashamed to admit it, but I'm completely done.  I have nothing left.  The tank is empty (or too full!).  And I seriously don't know how in the world I'm going to make it through the next 27 days.  I know, it sounds totally cliche.  But I don't mean that in the "I'm-so-uncomfortable-I-can't-do-this-anymore" way, but more in the "my-body-just-can't-take-another-day" kind of way!  I know, subtle difference.  But it's an important one, at least to me.

See, that's where the shame lies.  I feel like I did really well at the end of my pregnancy with Johnny.  Even after the first...and then second...due date came and went.  I didn't complain much, and always had a smile on my face for others to see.  Honestly, I really don't remember feeling very bad at all.   Very pregnant, of course, but not miserable.  This time, I feel miserable!  And I feel like I should have learned better after Johnny.  I know, intellectually, that "this too shall pass".  But everything I experience every minute of every day is telling me that time is moving too slowly, and it's never going to be over!  

Nights are especially rough.  I'm not sleeping much, which is totally normal at this point.  Getting up every 2 hours to go to the bathroom or switch hips isn't exactly the way to get a good night's rest. :)  But it's more than that with this baby.  Every time I get up, I mean literally stand up, I'm overcome with how heavy the baby is, how much weight I'm carrying, and how much my body aches.  By the time I make it 15 steps to the bathroom, I've realized how tired I am.  And then the futility of the situation just washes over me.  My heavens, I'm waxing melodramatic this morning, aren't I?!

I'm sure because my nights are so restless, my days have become all that more exhausting.  I have almost no patience left for my awesome kids, and I feel like I spend all day yelling at them.  I find myself panting after even the most minimal physical exertion.  It takes me at least twice as long to do everything, which is beyond frustrating.  But I move so slow because every movement is severely uncomfortable at best, very painful at worse.  

And on top of that is the guilt for feeling so miserable at all.  Once again, I'm pregnant when there are so many woman, so much better than me, that would give anything to trade places with me.  Or women who have a very difficult time carrying their children to term.  I try to remember how fortunate I am, and how all of this will be just a dim memory as soon as I have my big, healthy, beautiful son in my arms.  But if I'm going to be terribly honest, and if this cathartic post is going to be at all worthwhile, I have to admit that it's all a cold comfort.  I still just want to be done!

Danny has been so sweet and sympathetic to my near constant ramblings.  He even surprised me with an 80 minute maternity massage last weekend that was heavenly, and did a lot to perk me up and make me think I could handle this task to the end.  The kids are patient with me.  And my in-laws are very good at pretending they don't notice how moody I get sometimes.  All of which I am beyond grateful for!

Well, I suppose it's time to bring this pity party to an end, you think?  I do feel a little better, and I'm sure that Danny is grateful for one less phone call. :)