I’ve officially reached that point in pregnancy. The point where you shower at 2 am in search for relief from back pain. The point where you sleep propped up in hopes of reducing the acid reflux from raging bonfire status to flickering flame status. The point where rolling over in bed requires as much time and energy as it does to reverse the direction of a large ocean-going vessel. And while we’re on the topic, I feel as big as a whale. Nay, a leviathan. And am as pleasant as a fire-breathing dragon, too.
That point.
The point where you look down at endless belly- no toes in sight- and say, “There’s nooooo way I’m gonna bounce back from this one!” Max PSI. The point where you contemplate the importance of an item in your life after you’ve accidentally dropped it on the floor. And usually the conclusion is, “Nah, I didn’t need it (vitamin, utensil, article of clothing, etc) that badly.” This is because there’s a HUMAN BEING inside of you making it incredibly difficult to bend down. Or sit. Or stand. Or breath. Oh, and those cute little flutters have turned into elephant-sized stomping on integral body parts- ribs, bladder, kidney. My abs have separated with this pregnancy, and our little man really enjoys nestling his sweet little heel into that nook. I’m pretty sure that’s a form of torture in some distant countries. And sleep deprivation. That’s another one. Pregnancy discomfort, that is. Well, and form of torture. Semantics.
That point.
But I have a theory: the last few weeks are so uncomfortable, you actually long for labor. In other words, “I don’t care how this needs to happen, but get this baby outta me!” Otherwise, who in their right mind would wish for labor??? Yes, the home birth mom who declines pain meds just insinuated that labor was painful and unwanted. Gasp. Seriously, though, I think the last few weeks of pregnancy really are a gift in that they can teach you to endure. Endure discomfort, endure sleeplessness, endure enduring. And isn’t that what much of parenting is?
I’ve been learning that ALL things can be redeemed and found beneficial to us if we quit judging them as bad. Instead of wishing away the discomfort, I can choose to welcome it as a teacher. Instead of counting the seconds I’m awake at night with contempt, I can consider things for which I’m thankful. And I can blog about it 🙂 In just a few weeks, I will be sharing these quiet hours of the night with a little soul whom I am privileged to nurture. To me, that’s worth all the heartburn and sleeplessness and waddling in the world.
tommimom 
As the mom to a micropreemie, the other learning / consideration is how much I would have loved to be that uncomfortable and enduring that much physical chaos instead of visiting my baby clinging to life, hooked up to wires and tubes, in the NICU. Since I will never have the opportunity to be pregnant again, I also had a loss of that third trimester. Not to say all moms that make it full term should keep mum about the heartburn from hell, the backpain, and the misery – but just how you phrased it as learning to endure there is also a learning in being grateful for making it that far. Can’t wait to meet your little one, Tommi!
Oh, Tommi, I’m so sorry. You sound terribly uncomfortable. When my abs separated just one week before birth (was it caused by exercises my trainer had me doing, and I didn’t know any better???), the pain was searing, and baby wasn’t sticking his foot in there either! My sincerest sympathies. I do hear you, though, about not judging these things as evil. It seems like it would be satisfying but it just makes me that much more miserable. You’ll be in my prayers.
P.S. I tried leaving a comment last night, but wordpress wouldn’t let me. So weird.
Thanks Alison! And yes, I’m replying at 4 am 😉 That point!