At 9 months pregnant...

I am so ready

I have found myself struggling a lot lately. I hate to write about it because it makes me sound ungrateful, makes me sound selfish, and makes me sound weak. But I am so tired. This pregnancy has taken its toll on my body. Perhaps it was spending half of it with a spouse deployed? Perhaps it's having two toddlers that constantly need me? Perhaps it's working? Perhaps it's living in a home that I detest and can't quite feel comfortable in? Perhaps it's because it's my third baby in less than 4 years? Perhaps it's because I'm getting a Master's degree and school is time consuming and cuts into my sleep. Perhaps it's a little bit of everything that's making this one so much more exhausting- emotionally and physically- than I've experienced in the past. 

I'm grateful for this blessing, I'm grateful for the gift of pregnancy and will forever acknowledge that it is a gift. That there are enough out there that struggle with infertility and that there are even more that struggle with difficult pregnancies and loss. I'm grateful for this blessing and this sweet boy that will soon be in my arms. So when I complain that I am drained, I feel bad. Who am I to feel this way? Get your act together Amor, you're carrying a miracle and been given a truly wonderful experience and responsibility. As a woman, bringing life into this world is an instinctual pleasure. It makes me feel whole and complete, so who am I to gripe about the burdens that come with it? The conflicting emotions just add on to the exhaustion I already feel. 

My body is sore. I can't sleep at night because I have to sleep on my side which adds pressure to my already aching hips. Switching sides feels like I have to drag the world's heaviest bowling ball with me as I turn over and my back reacts in anger. Then, I get to deal with the arthritis in my left knee (thanks to multiple surgeries) and wait for the shooting pain from my hip to my knee to do their thing for a few minutes until my knee feels like it's had its fun with me and will calm down. I sleep for an hour, rinse, and repeat. It's been like this for weeks. While my children sleep (on most nights), while my husband sleeps, while my animals sleep. And then I start my day earlier than everyone else, to get myself ready so I can get everyone else ready and out the door on time. Breakfasts, coffees, lunches, people and animals to feed, pack whatever may be needed for school that day, anticipate needs, deal with tantrums, deal with 2000 questions from very curious toddlers,  the list goes on. Fortunately Matt dresses the kids, but if he's running behind, I feel bad that I have to give my kids a granola bar in the car instead of something more nutritious like yogurt or cottage cheese and fruit for breakfast. Charles has taken to stealing my toast and hard boiled eggs in the morning so I guess that's ok? Leaves me kind of hungry though. Working, keeping the home clean, cooking for the family, keeping everything organized, anticipating the next day(s), wanting to make my very few hours with the kids during the day meaningful and memory filled (even if they don't remember it, at least I'm building a foundation of a present parent), on top of the pregnancy brain and the soreness and the achiness...it gets overwhelming. I constantly find myself closing my eyes, telling myself to breathe, and just keep going. It's hard, and getting harder the further along I progress. 

Every minuscule contraction and sign that labor is near gets my hopes up, but I find myself disappointed. And then Matt says things like, why are you trying to rush things, he'll come when he comes. You. Just. Don't. Get. It. You get taken down by a sore throat, try carrying a baby around and not knowing what it's like to poop or shower in peace and quiet because the other two are attached to you. I'm not trying to rush this delivery, I'm not taking drastic measures to force my baby out. I want him safe, he is my son and my mother instincts/protectiveness kick in the second I find out I'm pregnant. HOWEVER, I am drained. Oh so very drained. I cry randomly because of it, in the shower, in the bathroom, in the car, on a walk. I had my first at 36 weeks, my second at 39 weeks, and as this due date gets closer and closer, closer than it ever has before, I get discouraged, I get defeated, I feel like I'm failing. My emotions are high, my hormones are out of control, and my body feels like it's been run through an obstacle course dragging my patience and sanity and kindness behind it. 

And then I get mad at myself for willing the end of pregnancy so badly. I'm dreading not being able to devote as much attention to my two boys. I'm dreading watching the learning curve between them and Matt form right before my eyes and letting them struggle to figure out how to work together without stepping in because I have another one that needs me much more than they do. I know my sleepless nights will continue to be sleepless because a bundle of joy will wake every 2 hours. I know breastfeeding pains await me. I know anxiety that comes with newborns await me- is he still breathing, is that a runny nose, did he poop and pee enough, is he growing enough, and of course, I'm expecting another battle with jaundice and the stress that comes with that. 

All this rolling around in my mind and it's just getting to be quite overwhelming and I'm feeling like I'm drowning. This will pass and I know that. For now though, I'm just going to have my pity party because this is real mom life. It's not always smiles and picture perfect images. It's STRUGGLE and SELF DOUBT and A LOT OF TEARS in the midst of the smiles and picture perfect images.