What, you thought I was going to go all this time and not whine at some point about the myriad woes of late pregnancy did you? This has been an easy pregnancy, and the second half has been generally much more pleasant than the first (nothing like getting rid of all-day nausea and abject terror to improve your demeanor) so I don’t have a lot to complain about — but I’m not going to let that stop me.
Really, it was my fault. Even though I didn’t say it out loud, just last week I was thinking about how much less stressful this 8-months-pregnant-in-December-while-working-and-mothering-full-time has been as compared to my experience when pregnant with Simon… and then my body started getting just a wee bit fed up with the 5 lbs interloper.
So, as promised, the only seven things I really have to complain about with just over seven weeks to go:
7. Restless legs. Only when I’m tired, but it’s like 1000 ants crawling through my knee joints. Ugh.
6. Winter coats. I can only get my coat done up if I take all the stuff out of my pockets, and even then I feel like I’ve been corsetted. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to reach the zipper on my boots by next month.
5. Peeing. I look forward to the day when I can just sit down and empty my bladder instead of peeing a bit, shifting the baby off my bladder, peeing a bit more, shifting the baby again, peeing a bit more – and then getting 10 steps away from the bathroom and realizing I still have to go.
4. Patello-femoral syndrome. I went to five weeks of physio in the fall to address this, and thought it was completely resolved, but my knee has started to ache again in the last couple of weeks. Trying to decide if it’s bad enough to resume the physio.
3. Reflux. It’s more annoying that troublesome, but if I happen to lie down within 30 minutes of drinking anything, it tends to spill back up my esophagus – which is about one inch long right now, because my stomach is pushed up somewhere just south of my voice box. Especially annoying when getting a midnight drink of water.
2. The baby’s head on my pelvic bone. I don’t know if he’s “engaged” but there are times when I’m walking that his head grinds so abruptly against my pelvic bone that it makes me gasp and stop dead in my tracks. I can’t imagine it feels good on his head, either.
1. Hemorrhoids. ‘Nuff said.
And one thing that makes up for all of it and then some: lying in bed this morning sandwiched between Tristan and Simon as they jockey to position their hands on my belly just so, listening to them giggling madly as they feel the Player to be Named Later hiccupping through my abdominal wall.
Bonus conversation!
Tristan: “I know what keeps the baby safe in Mummy’s belly. He’s frozen in carbonite.”

