The wall has been HIT.

Be forewarned, I’m about to have a pity party.

I’ll admit it.  I’m tired.  I’m burned out.  I’ve hit the wall.

The hard part is that I don’t 100% feel like there’s anyone to whine to.  I know that Mom would give anything to be in my position, AND she and Dad feel awful any time I’m feeling less than perfect.  I don’t want to make them feel guilty – they have enough to worry/stress about. Schmoopy has pretty much been a saint, picking up my slack, dealing with all the assorted glamours of pregnancy and only occasionally bitching about it.  I don’t want to tell any of them how bad this week has been.  So, internet, you get my complaining:

  • I’m exhausted and barely sleeping more than a couple hours at a time.  If I do get any sleep, Schmoop coming in from work at 3am wakes me up and then my brain kicks in and it’s all over.  I just want one night to sleep from when I’m tired until I’m done sleeping.
  • I’m not eating all that great. We are running out of stomach space, and in a cruel twist of irony, my appetite (which has been effectively non-existent since March) is raging but nothing sounds appealing.  I’m subsisting on apples/peanut butter, yogurt, smoothies and…yeah that’s about it. Oh, and the kids’ halloween candy, but even that is just “meh.”  Even if it were McDonald’s, I wish I wanted SOMEthing. Anything.
  • I’m starting to get slow and sore.  If this were our own baby, I wouldn’t feel bad about that, but the fact is that my kids aren’t about to have a sibling, so I owe it to them to be as close to normal as I can.  Besides sleep deprivation causing a shorter than usual fuse, I’m doing ok at it but I feel terrible for not being as tolerant as usual.  The cost of being this active is also far from insignificant.
  • WORST of all?  I’m jealous.  Insanely jealous.  While I know this is totally inaccurate, it feels like everyone else involved gets to enjoy their day to day lives.  If they want to sleep, eyes closed, sleep.  If they want to go away for a weekend, or even out with friends, no problem.  If they want to lift something, easy.  Eating? Sure.  Meanwhile, I get to be fat on the bed.  Then I get to be fat in the kitchen.  Then I get to be fat on the couch.  Combined with it being literally the busiest time of year at work, and Schmoop’s work schedule, I haven’t had a couple hours “off” in weeks, it’s just constant running and it’s very isolating.

I know this is what I signed up for, we all knew that being pregnant isn’t always easy… It should come as no surprise.  If I didn’t want this, I shouldn’t have been a surrogate, blah blah blah. I don’t regret this all – FAR from it – and I’m not one to admit weakness, but I just need a damn break.  Just an afternoon to not have to deal with anything.  Then again, I”ll probably feel like I’m ditching my littles.  It’s a no-win scenario.

Whining aside, little miss is doing great.  We’ve arranged with our midwives to have a homebirth kit in our home since the Duck’s labour and delivery was so quick.  We went from 4cm and “early labour” to delivered in 1 hr 1 min.  If anyone told me at any point during that hour that it was time to get in the car, my answer would have been…less than favourable.  I refuse to have a side of the highway baby, so the plan is for us to go to the hospital as soon as it’s a maybe, but also to be prepped at home on the off chance that we have another quickie!

36 weeks in, she’s head down, measuring right on track and working on her karate moves!  Even with an anterior (forward) placenta, she makes herself felt.  She’s so strong, almost…aggressive, and it’s amazing.  We’re all getting used to the idea that as of next week, we’ll be considered “term” and she can come any time!  I’d love it if she sticks it out until my maternity leave starts since I don’t really want to have to do more paperwork (burned out, remember?), but whatever she decides, I’m good with.  It’s all about this amazing little person, and her amazing parents, so what’s a few more weeks of (fun?) to change someone’s life, right?  We’re so close.  So, so close.  Baby steps.


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