I’m pregnant again. We were not planning on a fourth child, but hey, here we are. I’m coping surprisingly well. I was in pain for my first three pregnancies, and so this time around I’m getting prenatal massage at home, so I am feeling a lot better.
I’m also giving in to my cravings, because to do anything else is like self-torture. This time around it’s coffee ice cream. With a cherry on top. My sister is a crazy vegan and tries telling me all the time that dairy is bad for the baby. I’m like, “Oh. kay.” First of all, that’s utter nonsense. If she wants to be a vegan, more power to her. But telling me I’m injuring my baby. That’s just not true.
Now the other aspect of this is the caffeine. My doctor said that coffee ice cream doesn’t have much caffeine, and so I’m in the clear. I’ve already gained almost forty pounds so far during this pregnancy, and so I am only concerned about gestational diabetes. I’m already at 27 weeks. I just want a natural birth and I’ll be happy.
I think the massages are helping. During my last three pregnancies, I had pain in my feet almost nonstop. I also had severe lower back pain and there was no way to make it stop. Of course, I hadn’t yet discovered massage for pregnant women. It’s been a real lifesaver, but I know there’s more I have to do.
For one, I need to get back to my stretching. Yoga has helped me so much in this life, but I always feel like crap, and doing yoga takes vital energy. It’s no excuse because in the end I feel better. Who can argue with that?
My husband is pestering me because he doesn’t want me getting too fat. I feel like telling him to carry the baby then! He gets to go off to work every day while I go to work, too, but then have to come home and take care of the other kids, and do all this while feeling like an inflatable whale. It’s not fair, but then again, he is supportive. I get it. He wants a trophy wife and if I get too heavy, he will no longer be able to brag. That’s fine with me. I like being treated like I am a supermodel.
I actually hate writing and so I’m already questioning why in the world I would have chosen to start a blog. But I digress. It’s probably going to last for a few weeks, and then I’ll forget all about it. Just like I forgot all about my pottery class at the Y. That was a real gas. I went once and decided that I’d rather be cleaning the bathrooms.
My inspiration in life is my Mom. She dealt with my Dad until their divorce, and put up with his alcoholism, verbal abuse, and gambling addiction. In the end, it was his philandering that was her last straw. She left my Dad only ten years ago, and we were all shocked. I am one of four siblings myself, and none of us saw it coming. Well, my brother John still lived at home with them, and so he had to have known. He lost his job and couldn’t find another one, then his wife left him, and he broke his leg in three places in a car accident.
He must have been going crazy with them. John is supportive of my pregnancy, probably more than anyone else. He has two boys, but doesn’t get to see them. His wife hired an expensive lawyer who tricked the judge into thinking John was a drug abuser. It was all very clever. My brother does some weed, and he smokes a lot. But it never got in the way of his family or career. But his wife used that to skewer him.
I just know I want a vaginal birth. My first three were, and I am just concerned about the trend of more C-sections during the pandemic. My entire prenatal adventure has been sort of dampened by the fact that it’s during a time of so much health uncertainty. I was thinking of getting a doula. We’ll see.
Dance Or Die Forever 