Geriatric Motherhood

Posted on | November 20, 2018 | 3 Comments

I thought I had it all figured out when I was pregnant with C. I was “advanced maternal age.” I was going to have a harder time, right? I resigned myself to being slightly less spry during my pregnancy than I was with J.

And yes, there were heart palpitations to deal with and they were pretty awful. But other than that, it felt like business as usual for me for most of the pregnancy. When we found out we were pregnant with this little Booshka, our third and FINAL baby, you can understand why I thought it would be more of the same. I thought I’d be fine. I wouldn’t miss much work. I’d smile my way through until around 37 weeks when things would begin to feel seriously miserable, and then there would be a baby.

But… No.

Now we don’t know gender yet so I’m not holding anything back. But I have sneaking suspicion I’m dealing with a girl in there because this pregnancy is the worst. Don’t get me wrong… it’s still pretty darn amazing that there’s another life growing inside me. But from about week 4 straight through … three days ago, I was violently ill. We’re talking “threw up in the trashcan while my boss was talking to me” ill. I’ve been on Diclegis and Zofran and bland food and no food and basically anything I could think of. Finally a few days ago it seemed to quell a bit only to be replaced with what can only be called the “I’ve been hit by a bus so please just leave me lying here and also bring me a warm blanket and pillow” phase of my pregnancy. It’s around 3:30 in the afternoon right now and it feels like 2:00 in the morning. I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m struggling to complete sentences. I’m struggling to complete breathing. And this doesn’t even take into consideration all the other crazy stuff that’s come with this “life-creating.” When I climb stairs, I sound emphysemic. I wake up in the morning, and instead of stretching, my body groans “SCIATICAAAAAA” like Rocky yelling for his girl.  My boobs feel like 40 pound weights strapped to my chest that, oh by the way, hurt to exist.

I feel like this is why you’re supposed to be young when you have your babies. Young women can still glow through this. I am not glowing, guys. I am straight up sweating to the oldies.

I’m holding out hope that the second trimester will arrive next week and usher in some glorious phase of this pregnancy that will remind me that I can handle this, but I dunno…. I’m starting to wonder if I can make it through 6 more months of this.

Send help. And by help, I mean a walker, an oxygen tank, elastic waist pants, and whatever those sweet ortho shoes are that nurses wear.

Comments

3 Responses to “Geriatric Motherhood”

  1. Michelle
    November 20th, 2018 @ 4:45 pm

    OMG, congratulations and here’s a towel to wipe your glowing brow off! I was happy to see you pop up on IG the other day and now this – another babe! Congrats! I do hope things get easier!

  2. Harmony, Momma To Go
    November 20th, 2018 @ 6:03 pm

    omg wow congrats and yeah, def a girl!

  3. Sharon
    November 21st, 2018 @ 11:09 am

    First of all, congratulations! I relate to your post because my pregnancy was absolutely miserable from start to finish. Twin pregnancy at age 40 is no joke!

    Here’s hoping you feel better soon.

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