Squeeeeeeezed!

I don’t want to forever complain about this pregnancy thing (I know y’all are probably sick of it, and I also know that my overtone is often one of complaint…working on that one…sorry), but I have to say that I can’t wait until I have my body back, my space back, room for my organs to expand comfortably again. Everything inside of me is completely squeezed, making room for this watermelon-sized uterus. It elbows its way around in here, pushing aside my lungs, my stomach, my bladder, and my intestines until nothing functions normally. Literally. Hey, could I have a little more room, here? Thanks. My uterus is the man who should have purchased two airline tickets to fit into his seat, the one who made everyone else look around for another available seat. It feels a little like I’ve consumed a gallon and a half of water which has gone nowhere but to my uterus. On top of that, it sits too high on my body, pushing up on my diaphragm. My lungs are working at half capacity, I’m convinced. I huff and puff even doing minor daily functions, like walking down the hallway or reaching to get a cup out of the cupboard or even merely singing. I get heartburn after eating even the smallest meals. I am heading for the bathroom at all hours of the day and night. I mean, I just went twenty minutes ago, and now I have to go again? It’s a conspiracy, I tell you! And my uterus is the linchpin in all of it. And I’ll just refrain from going on about how it’s affected my intestines. Let me just say, the gas I can produce could clear a room. Even saying that, I know, is way too much information. Sorry. Nothing is functioning normally anymore.

I honestly hate being pregnant; this is probably not news to most of you. I mean, I love the ends, but the means are just so completely otherworldly. There is nothing more alien than growing another human being inside of you, sharing your space, the exact square-inch area you call yourself, for 40 weeks. I have a hard time understanding how some women enjoy, even prefer, this form of existence. Apparently, some women are designed to do it well, and others…well, you get the point.

Not sure I could ever enjoy barely being able to recognize myself, but I can’t wait to hold this precious little guy in my arms…outside of my body.