Overall, I am still feeling great. Thanks for asking. But just because pregnancy has suited me doesn’t mean I can’t complain just a little bit.
First of all, I can’t believe that I only have two more weeks of work left. That end date looming ever closer is just mind blowing. I know I’ll find plenty to occupy my time soon enough, but it’s really hard to picture what life is going to look like because I know that it’s going to look like no other life I’ve ever had before.
Also, I want to bitch a little bit about my “high risk” status. If you were talking to me face to face, those two words would most certainly be accentuated by finger-quotes and a big old eye roll. And perhaps I’ve vented on the subject before. Anyway, with my highest panic item being my impending lack of steady income, having to go to the doctor’s office or to the hospital for tests FOUR DIFFERENT DAYS next week just hits me right there where it hurts. I have no vacation time or sick leave, you see, and there’s no such thing as a night or weekend appointment. And every once in awhile, an “appointment” is treated by the medical staff more like a general idea that sure, they’ll be seeing you at some point before we all go home at five. Fortunately, because I’ve been among the first morning appointments for regular check-ins, I’m usually in and out fairly quickly. But there have been occasions, like every single ultrasound, where the clock doesn’t seem to be a tool that these people ever actually use when it comes to seeing patients.
Transitioning to the physical gripes, because I’m being watched so closely for hypertension, I’m certain that any minute sign of swelling is going to be treated like a total emergency. Unfortunately, my wedding rings have gotten a little tighter, especially when attempting to pull them off over the knuckle, and this morning the midwife noted a bit of puffiness when checking out my ankles. I know that in my head, the danger emerges when the swelling is sudden and excessive, but I can’t help feeling like I’m not allowed the normal bloating that just comes from being full-term pregnant.
And let’s talk about indigestion, shall we? I’m still not sure that what I’m feeling is actually indigestion, but I’m pretty sure it’s not heartburn, since I haven’t felt any discomfort in my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever really had indigestion before in my life. What it feels like is that I swallowed a marble that might have been on fire at some point, and this marble is now stuck in my esophagus. It happens sometimes when I’m hungry and know I need to eat. Sometimes I feel it when I’ve just eaten. Sometimes it feels better when I hiccup. Sometimes it gets worse. If eating or drinking fails, I can usually banish the feeling with Tums.
I’ve experienced a lot fewer “symptoms” of pregnancy than many women. I’m lucky to have avoided much unpleasantness. But I had no idea that being pregnant would effect my feet in this way. I mean, I expected them to swell a little bit, maybe go up a size or two, because the books often warn of such strangeness. But the sweating? Who knew? I have to take off my shoes at my desk these days, not because they’re pinching my toes but because my feet are just so drenched! And trust me, I’m glad that we don’t have a big office full of people or in a high-traffic area because no one else should really have to suffer the stench that these sweaty tootsies are capable of emitting. Also, if I were in a larger office or more of a high-traffic area, that would probably mean that I would be too polite or self conscious to actually sit at my desk and wander to and from the water cooler in all my cool barefoot glory.
So, not a long list of complaints. Just some odd things here and there. I’m getting closer and closer to the desire to finish the pregnancy segment and move on to the meeting of the newborn, but I’m still okay with waiting. Time has already flown so fast that I’m just trying to make sure and enjoy every moment I can.