A Mommy Story

As of today, I hereby relinquish any claims I had of being a strong woman. I used to think I could take most things. I believed my pain tolerance to be high, and my sleep deprivation tolerance to be moderate. I thought I could handle most anything thrown my way. But I now realize I’m just a wimp.

This pregnancy is kicking my ass.

I don’t remember it being this hard last time. The fatigue is overwhelming, and I can’t quite figure out the right balance to keep my body happy. It could be that I have more going on this time – class, work, a toddler, etc. Last pregnancy, I worked from home, and I was able to follow my body’s lead. I could nap when I wanted, eat when I wanted, etc. I still had a lot of work to do, but I did everything on my own schedule.

With my current schedule, I often am forced to put off eating when I have a lot of appointments close together. I get more sleep than most people, but it is often interrupted several times a night by a certain Siamese cat who chooses to walk around the house yowling for no reason. Seriously, cat, it’s getting old.

And then there’s the issue of the sacroiliac joint pain. These two joints are still wobbly and as a result, cause some intense pain throughout the day. Last week, while grocery shopping, the pain reached an unbearable point as I pushed my cart through the aisles, and I did something I rarely do: I cried in public. I actually leaned on the cart and shed tears in the soup aisle of Kroger’s. A stock boy asked me if I was OK, and I explained everything to him. This poor teen, who probably wasn’t expecting to deal with a crying pregnant woman as part of his duties, took pity on me and fetched the two remaining items from my grocery list, because I couldn’t keep wandering around anymore looking for the ziplock bags and pickles.

I’m still thankful that he helped me, although it left me feeling embarrassed and ashamed of myself, too. Aren’t I supposed to handle anything thrown at me? I recovered from a c-section with little more than a bottle of ibuprofen, refusing the stronger drugs almost entirely and rushing the nurses to let me get out of bed, push past the pain and get moving. But now I’m convinced it was only a fluke, and when I experience labor for the first time with this pregnancy, I worry I won’t be able to cope at all.

There are people going through issues far worse than a little joint pain, nausea, and fatigue – moms raising kids on their own, people with serious, painful, life-threatening diseases – how can I even think I could be resilient like them? Instead, under this little bit of pressure, I crumble and fall to pieces, feeling like each day is a mountain to climb. How can I think I’ll be able to handle two children if I can’t handle a second pregnancy?

And I can’t blame anyone but myself for this feeling of helplessness. My husband has been doing as much as possible around the house, taking Cordy in the mornings on weekends to let me sleep, and trying to be sympathetic to my complaints. But I’m sure he’s wondering what happened to the woman who breezed through her first pregnancy. I remember, when he was asked at one point how he was dealing with a crazy pregnant woman for a wife, he told his friend that I had few cravings, few demands, and basically little had changed. I made it look easy the first time around. But this time, add in only a few more responsibilities and one complication of pregnancy, and I’m a mess who gets up each day longing to crawl back in bed again.

So yeah, forget any image you may have had of me as a strong woman. (If you even thought that at all, of course. It’s quite possible you’ve always thought me whiny.) Because the truth is, I’m a wimp. A sissy. A weakling. And I’m certainly no role model to other moms out there, at least not until I can pull myself back together and get past this insane weakness that has taken me over.