Monday, February 6, 2012

I'm no Duggar mom

Much has been said about the Duggar mom and I'm not going to add anything new to the conversation -- let me just manage your expectations upfront. I will say this however.

I always marveled at how someone could take care of all those kids but now what I marvel at is how someone could GESTATE all of them without her uterus falling out because of sheer exhaustion. A uterus has limits. Mine has pretty much reached its, on pregnancy number three.

Because I like to pretend I'm a celebrity and keep my pregnancies a secret for as long as possible, you all were lucky enough to miss the blow-by-blow of my miserable, epic, nonstop morning sickness. No need to rehash it all now months later. I'll just sum up those four to five glorious months by sharing these two facts:

Fact 1. I threw up in my hand on several occasions.
Fact 2. During that time, when my four year-old would play with her dolls, I'd over hear them all throwing up.
"BLEGGGGGH," goes Snow White Barbie.
"Mommy! Mommy! Do you need mouthwash?" says Rapunzel Barbie.
"Hold on, honey, I'm not ready -- BLEEEEEEGGGGH," replies Snow WHite, mid-yak.

It was a vomitpalooza chez nous.

Now that I'm in my eighth month, I'm pretty much done with the vomiting.

Now, I just feel like a brittle old bag of bones. With a very large baby in the middle.

After three pregnancies, my insides are so stretched out and saggy that I feel like the baby's arm is about to fall out from between my legs at any moment. Like I might be dropping the kids off at school and a tiny baby fist will drop out and I'll have to excuse myself to shove it back it until the appointed time.

Forget taking a decent breath. That shit ended around month five. I pant so heavily just by walking across the room that it UNSETTLES people. It makes my companions uncomfortable because they think I'm just going to keel over from having a heart attack. I gasp for breath even when I'm doing NOTHING, when I'm lying down, fully at rest.

Its so distracting David can't even watch TV in peace.

"Its like I'm sitting next to a perv," he said, "All the heavy breathing."

Add to that the shooting pain in my spine and the fact that my darling, beloved baby kicks me hard in what I can only describe as my lady parts -- I know its impossible for her to get that low, but trust me, somehow, she manages it -- and I am pretty much a total cripple now. If I had a wheelchair, I'd use it.

How the HELL did the Duggar woman take all this? Is she some sort of Amazon? Or a masochist? Or does she have that weird medical condition where you don't feel pain? And annoyance?

In situations like this, all I can say is: more power to her. And, frankly, a little more power to me, please, so I can make it through the next six weeks.