A Whiny Post

One of the things I pride myself on is being a tough, positive person. I typically don't complain when others do. I try to look on the bright side of things, find the silver lining, appreciate experiences for what they are, when they are. I feel dragged down by complainers, by Debbie-Downers, by glum chums who just seem to want to bring others down with them. I strive to shake things off, answer with a smile, and keep all things in perspective.

With my first pregnancy, I was pregnant--through my third trimester--through the hottest summer Texas had ever had. Ever. By the end, I was huge and swollen and spent every evening with my feet up, trying to take it easy on my body. But even then, I was bewildered by all the bitching done by pregnant women all around me, by coworkers and strangers who seemed to expect nothing but misery from me. I got a lot of pity from everyone, and I enjoyed flashing a smile and responding with a chirpy, cheerful, "Actually, I feel great!" I liked bewildering everyone. I liked not joining the bitching masses.

But right now, all I want to do is become a card-carrying member.

I hurt. All the time. When I'm sitting, Dos is usually kicking my lungs or punching my bladder or stretching my belly sideways in ways that nature never intended. When I get up from sitting, my lower back shoots pillars of pain up, down, and sideways, making me hobble like an 80-yr-old. When I'm lying, my back hurts from lack of support AND Dos kicks, punches, and pushes.

Aside from the physical pain, I'm just gross right now. I leak and drip. I worry about standing up with a wet spot on the back of my clothes from the constant exodus of fluids and goo from my body. Lovely, eh?

I'm not sleeping. I'm awake every two hours or so all.night.long., either heaving myself out of my pillow nest to pee YET AGAIN, or trying to roll myself over to my other side to give my hips a break. If I lean too far forward, Dos protests the pressure with kicks and punches (and who could blame him? I wouldn't want to be laid on, either). If I lean too far back to try and support my back, my belly loses it's support and hurts from gravity pulling it down. When I balance just-so on my side, my hips take the brunt of the burden. Cue waking in two hours in pain.

I feel like crying pretty much all the time. This is a new development. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's my hormones gearing up for birth. Maybe I'm just tired of feeling like an invalid, like an 80-yr-old, like I can't do anything for myself anymore, like I'll never be comfortable again. I feel totally disconnected from my husband, which is no doubt the result of me being in a bad mood all the time. I mean really, who would be happy with a wife who's always upset? I try to be strong and happy, but I'm too busy at work. I'm too busy at home. I don't feel like we're ready, like our house is ready, like our to-do list is complete, like we've prepared ourselves for the birth, and the result is I feel like nothing is good enough and for someone who is used to having a prettydamngood grip on her life, this leaves me constantly frustrated. And I feel like he doesn't get it. Like he's not paying attention to what I'm going through. And that just makes me even more frustrated.

And all of this is only compounded by the fact that I REMEMBER not being so miserable 20 months ago. I REMEMBER being able to deal with it all, being happy, enjoying the last bits of my pregnancy. There are hazy, brief snippets--of working less, of swelling, of riding the electric carts at the store--that remind me that I was potentially actually doing less back then, actually maybe possibly even more unable to live life in a normal capacity than I am right now, working full time, not swelling, chasing around a toddler, doing it all. But even if I was doing less back then, I REMEMBER being happier.

I don't remember this feeling of being DONE.

I don't remember ever identifying with all of the whiny people of the world.

And that, of course, just makes me feel even worse.

So here I am. Joining the masses. I've officially become one of those whiny pregnant people. The self-loathing that comes with that is potent, but to add self-loathing to the slew of other dark and dirty emotions I'm dealing with right now just fits the bill, doesn't it?

Boo. Fucking. Hoo.