Well, there is no denying it. I’ve entered the unmistakable last lap of the race. My form is out the window, my pace irregular and a steam of anger seems to rise as each stride has me cursing having ever entered the damn race. This is not to say that I am not rapturously in love with this amazing little spitfire growing in my belly or that I would turn the hands of time back and say, “Know what? Two is fine.” I am just sick of being pregnant.
Today, dressed in a nice pair of slacks, a flirty purple XL non-maternity t-shirt with fluttery cap sleeves and black pumps, I felt cute. The hair worked, falling just so and my eyeliner went on without mishap. I even managed to grab a coat that was absent any of those indistinguishable, parent-of-toddler smears. Despite all of the aforementioned, I could not help myself from walking in a limp mule gait that seemed to be accompanied by a flashing sign overhead reading, “Sore cooter.”
I cannot believe I just typed the word “cooter.”
See? It’s another sign of this stage of pregnancy, at least for me. I stop all self-censoring. Walking past Sean’s desk today, which coincidentally is by his partner’s desk and two of his employees, I said, “Doesn’t seem fair that at the most miraculous and sacred of times in a woman’s life she suddenly takes on significant traits normally associated with working girls who’ve been ridden hard and put away wet a few too many times.” I heard the groans behind me, but all I could think as I held a hand on the lowest section of my belly was, “Is it possible she has lodged an important organ ahead of her to sort of clear the way for her exit?”
I am a burping, wincing, irritated lump…bump. Ugh. Now, I suppose that refraining from wearing heels might help things a bit. Slowing down my work schedule wouldn’t be the worst thing. Pampering myself with a hair cut and highlights on Saturday would likely be a huge help. So, I’ll do all of those thing, but I have a sneaking suspicion that even with flippy hair, kicky shoes and a clear plate, I am still going to be walking like an overzealous dude ranch initiate.
Oh sweetie, I know your misery. Make sure you get a pedicure with all that pampering too!
I loved being pregnant so much, and it was so long ago, that I think I have blocked out the uncomfortable parts. Sigh-h-h. They do exist tho, don't they?
Thank goodness those things herald the arrival of a gorgeous new girl to hold and hug. (and photograph for us please!!!) Soon!
Poor you. We've all been there at a certain point, huh? Where you just feel like a lump and there's no way to get comfortable. I can't believe you're still wearing heels!
A friend said pregnancy made me more vulgar!
I loved being pregnant too but those last few weeks I felt so frustrated. Here I was feeling excited but moving like a snail. I'd get off the metro and waddle my way towards the escalator with the crowds flying past me. I wanted to move like them! I wanted my body back. It was really then that I sort of felt like some sort of vessel carrying around this growing being.
So soon! Yet time is so weird when your pregnant and soon? what does that mean? š
I remember the waddle well. My wife was in rare form on those days when the "cooter" was under attack from within.
Oh man, she was violent!
But I survived, and so will you. That precious little thing is just letting you know that it's coming, whether you're ready or not.
Go have some ice cream . . .
I am a pretty reserved person in general, but I definitely noticed the way my pregnancies made me feel the need to express in detail, to The Man, how miserable every part of my body was.
I am a miserable martyr of a pregnant woman. And yet I did it again, and again.
Hang in there baby.
this end part is certainly the crappiest part of pregnancy.
hang in there.
Running on empty
You do not have to take credit for anything you say or do the last month of your pregnancy. It really is just horrible. But it is one of those things that we forget (just like labor) so that we will do it again. Imagine 6 weeks from now, when the words "It really wasn't that bad," come right out of your mouth.
I remember having to sort of sidle into spaces in the last few weeks for fear that if I moved normally the baby would just sort of fall out seeing as it was already sort of dangling dangerously between my legs. Hang in there, (you I mean, not the baby). Baby come on out. It's probably safe now.
Being pregnant is slightly less glamorous each time, eh? I vote you also include a pedicure while you're getting your hair did. š
That last bit of pregnancy is tough – enjoy your pampering. You deserve it.
Hey babe? You reading? What do you say? Can I get a pedicure too? You be ok with the girls?
š
Ya'll are too sweet!
Oh, man. I forgot about the achingly sore cooter. I was dilated to 5 cm for two weeks before Funk came.
It's moments like those when those belly-bra thingies start to make sense.
You said cooter.
*smirk*
Oh the interminable last month! The end of my first two pregnancies sort of faded into some romantic memory of mother earthedness, but that last one is seared on my cerebrum. It's the latest in birth control.
Be kind to yourself, sweetie. Pedicure, manicure, heck, prenatal massage!
I think there are worse words you could have used than "cooter".
ha we usually say pooter…which leads to some really great conversations and topics…like pooter juice…
okay have shamed myself enough must go hide now
Ooh – I remember that pain/discomfort all too well. Shockingly, I'd managed to put it out of my mind till today…;)
Aw, I'm glad you know enough to pamper yourself! Even if it doesn't fix the gait, it might help a little with the mindset.
{{{HUGS!!!}}} You are with friends, hun. I'm glad to know that I wasn't the only one who felt soreness in my nether region. I thought being pregnant with twins was bad – I begged my OBGYN to induce. But that was nothing compared to my last. I thought I was going to die!:)
Now I have to go look up another word on urban dictionary. Kicky shoes make the pregnant woman.
Oh, you totally crack me up. Yep, I can tell you're just about DONE!