My greatest (and only) complaint is that my legs and feet are more swollen with this pregnancy than they ever were with the triplets. For the past month, I've had to wear Charlie's socks and if I don't put my awesome Keen shoes on first thing in the morning, I can't get them on at all.
And I absolutely have to wear shoes.
I could wear flip flops when I was pregnant with the triplets, but they aren't an option this time. Not just because they don't fit - but because if I don't have something "containing" my feet, they get so swollen I can't walk.
I think the reason I've been having such a problem with swelling is because I'm on my feet all day long. When I was pregnant with the triplets, my primary responsibility was to lay around with my feet up and watch back-to-back episodes of "Judge Judy".
During my current pregnancy, I am Judge Judy.
"Who had it first?"
"You gave it to her. You can't have it back now. It's gone!"
"Do you hear the words coming out of my mouth?!"
"SILENCE! I WANT SILENCE!!!"
For the past week or so, I've come to dread bed time because it's really difficult to get comfortable. Last night I retired at 1:00 AM - and fell asleep at about 2:30 AM. At 3 AM, I had a dream that I was a turtle, stuck on my shell - and couldn't roll over for the life of me.
It's an interesting sensation when you wake up and forget for a minute that you are pregnant.
And then realize that you actually can't roll over and your dream isn't far from reality.
My arms and legs were kicking around in the air and I was reaching around in the dark for something, anything, to grab on to so that I could heave myself on to my side. And the first thing that I was able to wrap my hands around were my husband's neck.
Who had been sound asleep.
Charlie woke up gasping and after he confirmed that I wasn't angry and trying to kill him, he told me that he'd been having a lovely dream before I choked him awake. A dream about being on a tropical vacation, where people in grass skirts were serving us drinks with little umbrellas. We'd just finished our first beverage and were about to order our second.
Because there was no way I could fall right back to sleep,
I told Charlie that if there was such a thing as reincarnation, in addition to coming back as a killer whale, bald eagle, or soul singer ... I'd like to come back as a tiger.
In a recent article I read, I learned that a mature female tiger, who is approximately 9 feet long and weighs approximately 400 pounds ... gives birth to between 2 and 4 cubs that weigh about 2 pounds each.
Think of that.
I am approximately 5'7" tall ... am currently topping the scale at 225 ... and will most likely give birth to a child that is at least 8 pounds.
I'll bet that gestating tigers never dream of being a turtle stuck on their shell. I'll also bet that they don't feel like someone is smacking them in the pelvis with a crowbar every time they lay down ... nor do they feel like their uterus is going to fall on to their paws every time they stand up.
Of course, on the flip side, male tigers don't help in raising the cubs ... so - I guess I'll take the discomforts of pregnancy with the knowledge that Charlie will be around to help once our new baby arrives.
Charlie surprised me by adding to the wee morning chatter.
He said that he's been thinking about the whole repeat c-section/VBAC decision I'm contemplating and one more reason that he wants me to have a c-section is because my hospital stay will be longer.
At first I thought he meant he wanted me gone for a longer period of time. But he quickly added that the longer I am in the hospital - the longer he can be in the hospital, with me. And since my mother is here to watch the triplets, this would be our first get-a-way, since we've been parents.
Kind of like a mini-vacation.
Sans the tropical drinks with umbrellas.
I thought about this for a while and decided he had a good point.
But when I woke up this morning, I decided that only a person with four children under the age of three would consider major abdominal surgery, the risks and recovery that go with major abdominal surgery, and the resulting four day stay in a hospital to be a "vacation".
Here, I've been thinking that one of the primary reasons I want to have a VBAC is because otherwise, I have to deliver this week. And although people keep telling me that one baby will be "easy" there is no way that this baby is going to be "easier" ex-utero than he is, in-utero.
Almost as warped as an animal twice the size of me, giving birth to a baby that weighs four times less.