Well this pregnancy is winding down. 7 weeks and 3 days to go, but who’s counting, right?
It’s a bittersweet thing, knowing that this is my final pregnancy. It’s so relieving to know that my family will be complete and our future will consist of growing together, not still wondering if additions are in the future. But I love the movements…it’s amazing, really…he is an active little guy. Every moment I’m not moving I feel him and his limbs moving across my torso. He always has the hiccups at night, just like Addie did. But he has those power movements, and I really don’t think they’re kicks because they feel less like a jab and more like someone just punched you in the stomach or pubic bone…you know, the ones that make you stop breathing for a minute. In that, he reminds me of my pregnancy with Mason. I’m excited to meet him and nervous about all the sleepless nights and developing routines and schedules. Some people don’t believe in schedules, but I thrive on them, and consequently my children do as well. At the very least, it creates some sense of structure to a life that is no longer your own.
Moving on to the more exciting part of being pregnant: feeling like a pig in a blanket. That’s how I feel every time I get dressed and it doesn’t bother me too badly because I know it’s only temporary and I know how to get my body back. But still…things happen and it’s anything but glamorous. For instance, today, while at body pump, my sister in law stopped me about 4 squats deep into the usual 150 or so and told me she could see right through my pants! That’s right! I have managed to stretch every fiber of my non maternity, one size bigger, workout pants to the max. I was laughing so hard because I do this class at least three times a week unless the snow decides to wreck my routines and close the childcare…I can only imagine how many people have been able to see through my pants. I mean, seriously, the looks I get for doing pump from some people are so funny in and of itself. Not to mention, a woman with a giant baby belly doing squats and dead lifts, all the while, flashing everyone behind her. My only comfort is that I am a creature of habit and I always take the 2nd to last row and I know all the women behind me and God bless their hearts, they must have been too embarrassed for me to say anything. So a huge thank you to my sister and a desperate apology to the women that don’t want to see my rear-end:) I am now down to one pair of workout pants because I refuse to spend the obscene amounts of money on maternity workout pants at this stage. I promise I wash my clothes everyday, but to everyone at the Y, I have no more options, so don’t judge me!
Something even funnier that happened just prior to this, occurred in the ladies’ locker room. I typically avoid this room at all costs, mainly because I just don’t want to see women naked. I just don’t get it. Were these women always like this throughout their entire lives? Did they grow up in homes where everyone just walked around naked? They just bare it all and maybe I’m too conservative (obviously with my see through pants and all,) but I don’t care…when I’m 70 or 80 I still will not stand, walk, bend over, carry a conversation with another human being, or anything of the sort…NAKED!!!! Getting to the point, I had been driving my kids to doctors appointments the prior 3 hours and I really had to pee…stop reading if this is too much information, but it gets funny. So there’s one stall available in this hen house and obviously, I squat. Squatting towards the end of a pregnancy is probably one of the most challenging maneuvers a preggo faces, mainly because of the jacked up weight distribution, in addition to the fact that a preggo can pee for what feels like 2 minutes. Well, the woman in the stall next to me, obviously not shy (or considerate) at all, is BLOWING it up. It was awful! I was shaking trying to hold a squat, unable to breath because each gasp for air was more intoxicating than the one prior. I actually got lightheaded and felt like I was going to puke! I bolted out of the stall, beat red in the face to a room full of women trying to figure out why the pregnant woman is running out of a stall, which is just an addition to the perplextion they feel towards me, seeing a pregnant woman exercising. I mean, seriously. They were all looking at me, horrified, and what can I say? Hey, I squat because that’s what everyone should do and the lady next me is taking a toxic dump and I couldn’t breath? I have no idea what they were thinking, other than hoping I wasn’t going into labor and that I shouldn’t be at the gym to begin with. It obviously is a generation gap, which is totally fine, but I literally get looks of disgust from some of the older members there, because apparently working out while pregnant is offensive.
I might make a sign that says:
1. Watch out. My pants may now be see through due to my ever growing behind.
2. Yes, I am ok. I’ve done this before.
3. Yes, I am ok. This is my fourth pregnancy.
4. Yes, I am young to have four kids.
5. Yes, I am finished. No, I don’t want to create my own basketball team.
6. Yes, I’ve modified my workouts.
7. Yes, my hands are full.
8. No, I will not go into labor in front of you. In fact, I’ve never actually gone into labor because my uterus is either like the Ritz, or my children are lazy. One or the other. But don’t worry. I won’t make you feel uncomfortable by going into labor.
Pregnancy is a glamorous thing. You really hold no shame when it’s all over. It’s a very humbling experience, each and every time. Thankfully, I just learn to laugh about it all. There’s nothing else that can be done:)
I do have some posts of substance coming up. I’ve been learning a lot about the connection between how your brain functions with your body, and how most brain disorders (depression, anxiety, ADHD) are not a deficiency in specific medications, but rather, vitamins, minerals, or having toxic levels of metals and other foreign matter in your system. I look forward to sharing it with you.