. . . not that any of my pregnancy has been easy. The title of this blog, in case you haven’t inferred, is sarcastic. Because I’m sarcastic!
I originally thought I would update this blog weekly, as an outlet for myself because I can’t talk about all the shit that stresses me out to my nonpregnant/financially stable/distant friends. Everyone has their own stuff to worry about and I’m not one of those people who feels comfortable burdening my friends with worries and issues I’ve really brought on myself. That’s what the internet is for, right?
But updating every week requires me to face the issues I don’t always want to, due to lack of sleep or inability to articulate what about my awkward body is so great/terrible/inspiring/whatever. All I can honestly say about the end of my pregnancy is that I’m uncomfortable and wish I could sleep better. And that I’d like a pile of money AND the ability to eat pizza again. Is that so much to ask?
I am working with a doula to prepare for my birth, which promises to be complicated and medical but the doula is teaching me to acknowledge that’s OKAY. The goal of my birth isn’t to use as few drugs as possible, it’s to deliver my son safely. And, since I have a body that requires daily medical intervention just to stay alive, it’s not depressing or surprising to me that chances are high my delivery will also need medical intervention.
When I talk to friends that have had children, I sometimes mention the frustration I feel when things not going as well as I hoped, despite all my hard work to manage my preexisting illnesses. My doctors told me if I was able to manage my chronic conditions well, my pregnancy would be normal. This has not been the case. I feel a little duped, but mostly I feel like I did something wrong, even though I DID manage my conditions well. And now the consequences are most likely a birth that I had hoped to avoid (c-section, early, blah blah blah). When my friends hear this, they try to console me by reminding me that my body was MADE to do this, and I shouldn’t give up just yet.
I know this is supposed to be comforting, but my body was technically made to do a lot of things it can’t do. People with chronic illnesses long ago gave up trust in their bodies — they had to, if they were to manage their illnesses well enough to keep them alive. Maybe that’s just me. So no, I don’t trust my body to do the right thing when in labor. I trust my doctors and doula to assist me and use their knowledge to help get my son out in the safest means possible.
Sorry, rant. Again, third trimester is NOT easy. So instead of spending time blogging about all the changes and fun things I’m doing to prepare, I am reading again, prepping cloth diapers, and daydreaming of a world where I live in Canada and get a longer leave from work. Until next time!