What a week it's been. We've been getting over nasty bugs, having family photos taken, attending Christmas parties, and (today) even Christmas shopping.
I often shift back and forth between regretting the fact that I never seem to get out of the house, and feeling genuinely anxious about doing so when given the opportunity. It's just so complicated, and so exhausting, every time. And while I don't regret the outings I've been on this week, I definitely worry every time that I might be overdoing it by participating in them.
Sad, huh? I probably don't even expend as much energy on those things as a fit person does exercising. But sadly, I've never been fit, and now I'm pregnant, so I have little to no energy with which to carry out seemingly "normal" tasks. And when I try to, I find out fun facts like:
-my back will start hurting after approximately five minutes of nonstop walking
-if I push that to ten or more, my hips (well, one of them, anyway) join in the fun
-whether five minutes or ten, if I haven't eaten in the last couple of hours, I'm bound to suffer lightheadedness, at the very least
-afterwards, I get to fret my way through some pretty frequent Braxton Hicks contractions (that was Wednesday night), wondering if this is the start of an episode like the one I went through with your brother
Here's hoping I won't have a repeat of that tonight; I did more walking today than I did on Wednesday, I'm pretty sure.
The good news is that the heartburn has died down, and that while sleep has not been easy, it has not been unattainable, either. Let's keep it that way, shall we? ;)
Especially this week. I'm trying to prepare myself for all of the stress that's about to come my way, but I never can seem to build a sufficient mental barrier against it. Those walls just come tumbling down at the slightest strain. And I must admit to quite a bit of fear and anxiety regarding our upcoming trip to New Jersey. I don't know what my uterus will think of 5-6 hours in the car, up and then back again. It was not a fan of traveling last time, evidenced by the fact that all of my third-trimester troubles with Michael began upon my return after Thanksgiving last year.
I keep trying to remind myself that I'm not in the third trimester yet, this time. And that I've faced this prodromal labor thing before, so I know just what to do to counter it. And that perhaps, if I read the early signs and take it easy that much sooner, I can avoid getting to the point that I did with your brother.
It doesn't really ease the ever-present anxiety, though. Just quiets it somewhat.
I suppose this is the point at which I should just "let go and let God." I tend to forget to do that, though. Maybe you could be my de-stressing buddy and remind me? I think it would do us both some good.