There is only one word that can really sum up how I feel...oh, it's not a very nice word, so let me try a sound...
UGH!!!!!
My back hurts. That doesn't quiet capture the burning, broken, some-mean-person-stuck-a-butcher's-knife-in-it feeling that it has. Hot showers help but then my poor skin looks like I've never even heard of lotion, much less own any or know how to use it.
My hips hurt. Somewhere along the lines of believing that they are going to split wide open and everything inside of me, including the baby, is going to crash down to the earth like a dropped watermelon...that's where I am right now.
Heartburn. Remember the person with the butcher's knife I mentioned earlier...yeah, it's stuck in to far that it's dissecting my esophagus at a slow, torturous rate of speed. I can eat approximately three bites of food before I feel like if the baby kicked right then, the food would fly back out and across the table. I've got myself convinced that milk makes it feel better but I'm not really sure. I'm beginning to think it would just make the mess that much worse if the baby kicks the food back out. Gross. Moving on.
The puppy. Ah, Bailey. She is a sweetie, no doubt. Cute, soft, playful, those sweet brown eyes...she looks like she belongs on the cover of a Labrador Retriever holiday calendar. But, boy oh boy, is she busy. If she doesn't need to be fed, then she needs to go out, or to be pulled off of one of my children already roaming on this planet, or to have yet another ornament she's stolen off of one of the trees retrieved from the very back of her throat where it is already mangled beyond recognition (and most certainly not in any condition to return to the tree), or to roll up the 67 feet of Charmin that she's crazily wrapped around doorways, chairs, and toys at a high rate of speed, or to find the mate of the sole remaining shoe that she has strategically hidden somewhere that only she and top FBI agents know exist, or pick up the shredded papers that she managed to steal out of John's office or briefcase...you're getting the idea I hope. I won't even go into how green and lush our lawn will be this coming spring thanks to her efforts...again, moving on.
Tanner. Just in time for the holidays and BIRTH, he realized last Thursday that those rails on his crib are really more of a suggestion of where to stay put rather than a firm boundary, and so up and over he went. Yep. He can get in and out like lightning now. So, he's fast asleep in the toddler bed tonight. Sounds cute, right. Well, after playing a very un-fun game of "get back in your new bed" at naptime today, that he won, we gave up and let him not nap. This is on top of him waking up at 5:00am this morning, courtesy of his brother screaming about Godknowswhat and getting the entire family up before the paper was even in the driveway. Full day of playing, running, eating, and a nice bath, it still took nearly an hour, at least 60 trips back to bed, and one teaspoon of Benadryl (shhh, please don't tell) before he passed out. Holy crap. This is going to be one long week.
Ryan. He's actually not very high on the offender list right now. He's just my sweet, big boy who asks way too many questions and points out the very-obvious constantly, but I wouldn't have him any other way.
John. He's probably the main reason I'm still alive. He's been beyond patient with me and my bedrest. I'm sure nothing beats working all day at a high demand client then coming home to all of the glory that is our house after 4pm. I wonder if when he's driving up if it looks like one of those movies where the dark, spooky clouds are beginning to swirl and thicken up over our house only? Hmmm. Maybe I'll ask...
So, one week from tomorrow is the longest that this can go on. My nonstress tests looked good last week. I see the perinatologist in the morning and will have another one done there. My fluid has been labile, but hasn't gone back down to near-panic levels anymore. After reading all of the above info, you're probably able to estimate just how compliant I've been with the bedrest thing. Yeah, I know. Bad patient. Well, I'm guessing that everything will be fine tomorrow and on Thursday when I see the OB, so we'll just look forward to next Monday and try to take it one moment at a time.
Good thing the payoff is soooo great at the end of a pregnancy! :)
