Today as a drove down the highway sobbing because I missed the baby who is at daycare today, coming back from my midwife appointment where I had just basically had a therapy session more than a check-up, it occurred to me that I am really, really sick of being pregnant or nursing.
I am sick of my hormones being so out of whack that I have to put up with sobbing because my child is in daycare. I am so sick of watching the numbers on the scale climb and feeling like my body is not my own. Last night I watched our son play punching bag with my uterus and rather than be touched, I felt like I was watching some alien try to emerge. It was uncomfortable and unpleasant to say the least and I am not happy in this state.
Pregnancy is beautiful and blah, blah. I should appreciate it and blah, blah. But what if I don't? What if I hate it, resent it and wish I could gestate my children in anyone's uterus besides my own? Does this make me a terrible mom?
I feel guilty because I know there are so many people who want to be pregnant and cannot get there. I want to be all zen and calm. I have the distinct feeling that 30 years from now, I will look back upon this time wistfully (at least that is what people tell me), but for me, now, I can only see that I have 10 weeks left and it is only getting worse from here.
My arms are fat, my face is fat, the scale is registering numbers that terrify me. I am on track to gain 48 pounds yet again. And while I know I will lose it, this time is 100,000 times more difficult because I JUST DID THIS, dammit.
It is also so hard to get so winded I cannot play the game I want to play with my daughter. At nearly 16 months, she is becoming so much fun. She loves to dance and be chased and be silly and I feel so guilty that most of the time, I can only go one or two rounds of chasing before I need to lie down. Picking her up has become hard and my motivation to go out is super low. Yes, I am still working out, but that is such a part of my life, it is like eating. Somehow finding the energy to deal with the other parts is very difficult. The guilt over these things and the fear that I am missing such important parts of her development is what made me sob on Route 9 today.
What idiot says you have to enjoy pregnancy to love your children? That is such a cliched, Hallmark load of crap. I hated being pregnant with Sam and I adore her with every cell in my body. I want myself back. I want to be able to at least somewhat predict my emotions and not feel like I am possessed all the time. This does not, however, mean I will not adore this child.
I need a break. This time I am truly done with pregnancy at least for another 5 or 6 years. I am already talking adventures in birth control with my midwife and would be talking sterilization if we did not think there was the off chance I will want to gestate our third.
In the meantime, I am trying my best to breathe deeply, stay cool and remind myself that next Feb. I will be on a beach in the Bahamas with both my children at a close friend's wedding looking normal in a bikini.
I'll drink to that.