We have five weeks to go until we meet our baby girl. I know I already talked about that in my last pregnancy update, but it’s something I can’t get out of my head. In five weeks, we will have a baby girl to take care of, to cuddle, to raise, to teach and love. I have conflicting emotions right now of trepidation and of excitement and anxiety and even relief to know that it will all be over soon.
If I were to be honest with myself, and for the longest time I haven’t been, I would have to say that this pregnancy has really shaped a negative opinion about it all – pregnancy, I mean. Although pregnancy is one of the most mind-baffling experiences {seriously, there is a human in there… a HUMAN!… and I helped make her!!}, with one of the most beautiful and precious blessings as the outcome, I still can’t say that I fall under the category of women who say that they love being pregnant and will miss it when it’s over.
To be quite frank, I won’t miss being pregnant. I know that there are millions of women who would love to be in my shoes and feel the things that I am feeling. I in no way wish to come off as saying that they should be grateful that they don’t feel these things – because I am heartbroken for them, deeply and truly heartbroken. I don’t know what it’s like to feel that way.
But I do know how I feel and right now I’m being honest with myself. I don’t want to pretend like everything is sunshine and rainbows and like these past seven months have been the best of my life, or even close to it. Because they haven’t. And I’m not even factoring in the medical bills from the hospital stays for Benjamin, or all the car troubles, or family drama. I mean this pregnancy.
I wish that today was March 21 and tomorrow I would be holding my baby girl. I wish that this would be over tomorrow and then all of the bad things would just be ancient history. Because of the different things I’ve gone through and had to endure {and I know that my problems aren’t as bad as the problems of others… I’ve never experienced loss, or Gestational Diabetes, or Pre-Eclampsia, or had to be hospitalized because of different, horrible symptoms. I know that it could be worse. I am thankful to God that it hasn’t been worse.}, I just want all of this to be over.
What it’s become to me is a means to an end. Spending three months bent over a toilet, puking up anything that is able to get past my teeth… and sometimes even when nothing has passed my teeth, and then many more months struggling with depression triggered by my PTSD… feeling useless and sore… exhausted, emotional… vulvar varicosities, circulation problems, severe pelvic pain, my ribs being battered, insomnia, restless leg syndrome, lack of bonding, etc etc etc…. {I know I complain too much.} These past seven months haven’t been very kind to me – but I’ve been blessed to know that through all of this my daughter has been growing and healthy. No matter the mental or physical pain I have been through, she is okay and that’s what matters.
But I’m so ready for this to be over because who knows what new symptom may pop up in the next five weeks?
At the same time, I’m conflicted.
I’m conflicted because I know that this could be my last pregnancy. I’ve already said that I don’t want to go through this again, but who knows what the future holds? But still… my sentiments right now are that I won’t be pregnant again, and while it’s a relief that all this is coming to an end… I feel almost sad to think I may not hold a precious baby in my tummy again. Because it really is phenomenal when you think about it… growing another person. I feel sad that I couldn’t enjoy it more, but it was basically out of my control. Dealing with a mental disorder during all of this made that impossible.
I’m conflicted because I have enjoyed watching Benjamin become excited and grow into his new role of big brother, even before the baby is even here. I feel sad that I may not get to watch this with baby C when she gets older.
I’m conflicted because although this has taken a toll on me mentally with the PTSD and depression and anxiety… if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, and if I hadn’t had to endure all of this, I may not have come to realize that I had a problem mentally. A serious problem. My marriage could still have been slowly slipping through my fingers. The healing I have been going through has brought me closer to my husband. I don’t know if he feels the same way, but I feel closer to him than ever before because going through everything has “forced” me to rely on him more and more in ways I should have relied on him to begin with. So in a way, I am grateful for all these months of “torture” {drama, much?} to help me grow closer to my husband.
So… I dunno. Do I enjoy pregnancy? No. I don’t. Sorry. Am I going to miss it when it’s all over? I doubt it. I mean, something much more amazing takes the place of the pregnancy anyway – I get to share this blessing with my husband and my son and I get to share the blessings of them with her. But does all that mean that in the end, I don’t feel a little sad that it’s all winding down? Perhaps in very different ways than most women feel, I do feel a little sad.
But… I’m ready for the next chapter. SO ready.
And at the same time … so not ready.
So, I’m conflicted. And I guess it’s okay to feel conflicted.
