Wednesday, December 27, 2006


Warning: much self-pity follows.... you have been warned.

I am not feeling very serene today. I barely slept last night. Rolling over in bed is becoming a major production and every time I do it, I wake up. The baby is also sitting on my bladder so I feel like I need to pee constantly. I am basically learning to work with the fact that I will always feel like I have to go to the bathroom even though I am trying to keep my trip frequency to once an hour. If I am on the couch, getting up is uncomfortable. Tying my shoes is a huge, painful ordeal. And forget about bending over. Everytime I do it, I wonder if I am killing myself or my baby. There is no position in my work chair that actually feels right so I spend 95 % of the day moving around. Since I am a writer and my job actually requires more than 10 minute intervals at the computer, this is not ideal.

R keeps telling me to "ask for help" instead of groaning and crying out in frustration. But I am not one who asks for help easily. I have never had any sort of incapacitating experience in my life. Until I was pregnant, I ran 40 miles a week, lifted weights every other day and biked eight miles roundtrip to and from work, sometimes in the pouring rain. I am not used to being weak and, quite simply, I can't stand it. I force myself to walk at least four miles a day, go to yoga a couple times a week and continue to climb the four flights of stairs to my office at least four times daily. I am so scared of what will happen if I stop. Will I just cramp up and be miserable? As much as I struggle to stay physical, I think it is the only thing keeping me sane right now.

The body stuff is killing me, too. I have fat rolls on my back and under my arms that were not there before. I spend so much time looking at old pictures of myself and wondering how and when I will ever have that body back. I started crying on my walk to work thinking about my waistline and the way I took it for granted that pants used to button over it and not fall down every two minutes like my maternity pants, which are too big in the hips and too small in the belly. I used to hate hearing pregnant women call themselves fat and used to think: not fat, pregnant! But now I totally get it. It really sucks. I feel like I have lost touch with the person I used to be physically and the appearance is a huge chunk of that.

I feel guilty, like I should be reveling in impending motherhood and loving the baby and my growing body. I feel like I am failing some earth mother/goddess fantasy I had for myself before I got pregnant. Mostly I know that I am lucky to be having this baby, there are many women who would kill for this opportunity and I should suck it up. But, all the same, I can't. I know it is temporary and I know I have the drive and the will to get my body back to a size four. But I can't help it. I feel like crap.

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