Saturday, December 13, 2008

8 weeks, 32 left to go

Today was a better day than most. My morning sickness was held at bay by the 4 eggs I had for breakfast. Not to mention I got a whole 7 hours of sleep. Lela helped me this morning by unloading the dishwasher and cleaning the living room while I folded endless amounts of laundry and cleaned the kitchen. We had an entire week's worth of chores to do, and accomplished them by noon. I couldn't help thinking to myself, "If I just did the work as it was needed instead of let it pile, it wouldn't be so overwhelming." But I had to give myself a break. I can't do everything, especially feeling the way I do.

This fifth pregnancy is turning out to be quite different than the rest. First of all, I have four other children and a husband to worry about. With the fourth, Johnny was only home on weekends and I never had to do his laundry. That was nice. Second of all, I can't seem to keep up with the new demands my body is needing of me. I can't sleep whenever I need, rest whenever I want, eat whatever I want. I can only imagine what I'll become next summer, when I'll be big and bumbly.

The only good thing I have on my side is experience. At least I know what I'm doing. And I gotta say: I don't mind so much the nausea, the weight gain, the already poofing belly, the flattening booty, the tree trunk legs, the hips growing a couple inches wider, the walrus cheeks, the crazy mood swings or even the warped taste-buds. It's the p-brain that is most annoying me. The pregnancy brain is not what I need. I feel like a flake and an airhead. And I keep having little blips of panic because I keep thinking it's Monday and I've missed an appointment, class or event. Every hour of everyday is usually spent in strategizing schedules, car-rides, meals, classes, parties, errands and chores. But since I can hardly have two coherant thoughts in a row, this has become difficult. The very worst part (yes it does get worse) is that there's not anything I can really do about it. Maybe hire a teenager to come in and help once a week. Maybe sleep a little more. But sleep for more than 6 hours is a luxury with a two-year old who is training to stay in bed.

Well, this is week 8. I'll see how things go. I just gotta hang in there for 10 more weeks and I should feel better. Hopefully I won't be too much heavier. I'm feeling frumpy as it is. At least I know there is a purpose to all this uncomfy-ness. The baby's heart is beating now and my body is building the home to sustain his/her life for the next 8 months. Amazing.

1 comment:

jen hartley said...

hi jiamin, thanks for your beautiful honesty about the un-glam-ness of mamma life. i loved reading!