It seems I’ve reverted back to the first trimester. Along with having what little energy I had left zapped out of me, I’ve been knocked down with some bouts of nausea and extreme stomach discomfort. […]
It seems I’ve reverted back to the first trimester. Along with having what little energy I had left zapped out of me, I’ve been knocked down with some bouts of nausea and extreme stomach discomfort. It feels as though Roo were both grinding on my organs with as much force as possible while also flinging himself against my uterine wall in order to escape his confines. On the one hand, I feel sorry for the little guy – it can’t be comfortable as he gets bigger but his safe house stays the same size (does this qualify as child abuse?). On the other, I feel sorry for myself, because the fatigue and belly rumbles derailed my plans for a productive Labor Day weekend. Apparently children can affect your schedule even before they’re out of the womb.
While Arthur got to represent us both at game day with our friends on Saturday, I stayed home and wallowed in bed all afternoon. Finn kept me company while I got what little sleep I could and watched The Switch and Friends with Kids (if you’re familiar with the movie plots, you’ll notice a theme). I felt terrible that the most energy I could muster was for my all-too-frequent trips to the bathroom, since Roo also found time to bounce on my bladder. I tried to reassure myself that I should enjoy my sick days now, since the next time I’d be unwell, I’d probably have my son to look after. And the next time I’ll be pregnant, I’ll already have a child, so these days of kicking up my feet without a care are numbered. Still, I hoped the rest of the weekend would be better.
It was, but only mildly. I was less bedridden but more unproductive than I’d like to be, especially compared to my Superman husband. After working 12-plus hour days all week (and then finding time to work some more over the holiday weekend), he still managed to put the nursery into working order. He set up the dresser, crib, stroller, and baby monitor with minimal effort on top of washing dishes and returning our dining room – where the baby shower gifts had been stashed – to its former order.
As a write this, I realize that while Arthur can do a lot more for Roo now, I’ll be contributing a great deal once our son gets here. So perhaps I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Besides, during my “lazy weekend,” I still found the energy to sort through the baby shower gifts, wash Roo’s clothes, and find their rightful spot in the nursery. I also did the rest of the family’s laundry and vacuumed the house. In retrospect, my lazy days were still pretty productive, and I probably should’ve taken more advantage of my last hurrah. Hmmm… Although I have to confess, washing baby clothes was pretty fun!