Pregnancy

 

  I remember when Russ and I were dating and in the early stages of marriage, you know, the time when you're still on your best behavior, you brush your teeth before making out and would never think of passing gas in front of one another. Well that was when I made the decision that I'd never be one of those wives that "gave up". I'd always make the effort look pretty for him and never be caught saying things like "why bother getting all dressed up, I have no one to impress". In fact that has always been and still is one of my most hated quotes, I cringe when I hear it come out of married women's mouths, I think to myself "What do you mean you don't have anyone to impress? What about the man that supports you and fathers your children? This is the attitude that causes men's eyes to wander!" So anyway, I've always made a conscious effort to impress my sweet Russ, well that is until about a month ago.

  I'll never understand women who painlessly have babies late into their thirties and beyond, and I'm disappointed in my lack of grace this time around, I've always embraced pregnancy and been so good at it. In fact, when I was   pregnant with Ryler (mind you this was only 2 1/2 years ago), I managed to help Russ finish an entire basement and have energy left over for nesting and occasional sex, and today, at that same stage of the game, I can barely move. My house is a disaster due to my inability to bend over, my hips are killing me and causing me to waddle like a penguin, heartburn has caused Tums to practically become a food group, my pelvic bone feels like it's broken and breathing has become a new and unpleasant challenge making it difficult to accomplish anything normal. Me and everything around me is falling apart and all I can manage to do about is observe. So alas, I have become what I always feared most, the frazzled, worn out, covered in ketchup and peanut butter stains, pony tailed mom... the one who "gave up".

  I'll chalk this up to being over thirty, much too old to breeze through the process of creating a new life. Now in my own defense, I do still wear some make up, but in the grand scheme of things, I could be doing a lot better, but fortunately for me, I have a wonderful husband whom I'm pretty sure is partially blind. Example; every night as I'm getting into the shower he whistles, and every time, I look behind me to see who he's whistling at. I mean, it can't possibly be me, doesn't he see the cellulite on my thighs and my sagging boobs that look more like goat milkers than the firm, perky breasts he married seven years ago? But sure enough, it's always me he's whistling at, I guess it's true what they say about love being blind.

  Well, enough complaining for one evening, I suppose in the end, I am grateful for a husband who's eyes never wander despite my shabby appearance as of lately, and for my beautiful daughter whom I'm sure will be worth every bit of misery I'm going through, and for my two boys who are the cause of a good deal of my exhaustion, but sweet, wonderful boys nonetheless.

  And tomorrow I'm off to see the chiropractor!