WOOHOO we’re on the home stretch! There are 3.5 weeks left until our baby boy is due to make his arrival and boy oh boy has this been a tough few weeks. I knew it’d be a juggle and a challenge having two babies under two but being heavily pregnant and trying to chase after and keep up with one very busy 18 month-old is something I didn’t even really think about…. Until now.
If you’ve been pregnant before, you know the feeling. The swollen ankles and fingers, the achey back and thighs, the inability to sleep any longer than an hour at a time before waking up to (very difficulty) change positions and roll over to the other aching side… By about 34 or so weeks I was on maternity leave with Taylor and I was lapping it up BIG TIME. Netflix marathons (Dynasty was my fave at the time), nesting but only when I had enough energy, laying down, sitting comfortably on my exercise ball, swimming in my MIL’s pool (it was Summer) and basically just resting until baby gal arrived. This time around, ain’t nobody got time for ANY of that. My 18 month-old darling girl, Taylor Grace, is a busy little bee who loves grabbing her mummy’s hand every time she finally gets a chance to sit down for a minute, to play on the floor or show me something she wants. Most of the time it’s cute and I love that she wants me to join her. But this occurs approx 1,256,265 times a day and I’m feeling heavy and…well, my poor, poor swollen ankles. A nice warm shower to help with that back and thigh pain? Not until Taylor naps at 12pm, mumma! That honey sandwich you’ve been craving since 9am? You’ll get to it… After Taylor refuses 10 snack and meal offerings, finally eats the last one you offer her (but only if you sit next to her while she does so), you clean up the mess on her face, hair, hands, clothes, high chair, floors and then deal with the shitstorm tantrum that comes with cleaning said face, hair, hands etc. I feel like you get my drift. Shit’s hard.
Today I felt bad for being so keen to just sit around and do almost nothing lately, but then I remembered that at 36.5 weeks pregnant, that’s probably exactly what I should be doing. Just because I don’t work in an office workplace, doesn’t mean I am not working. Holy good lord, am I working! So I will rest my butt on the sofa for as long as I can get away with before Taylor requests another snack, demands I remove Snoopy’s toy from his mouth so she can hide it (I do not participate in this evil game), points to her favourite (bastard) magnet which has slid under the couch and she needs a hand retrieving (chyeah, because I am great at getting into small spaces at the moment, doll) or just pulls me to the floor cos that’s where she prefers I sit (need I explain to you how much of a mission it is getting me back up off the floor again? As if sitting on the floor doesn’t hurt enough with baby crushing my ribs, it takes me approx 3 minutes and a whole lot of grunting to get back up again… and if Taylor is waiting for me to get up, I absolutely cannot take my sweet ass time – the tantrums are real guys).
It’s freaking beautiful though. Being a mummy AND being pregnant. No really, all jokes aside, it is. It’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. It’s just also really hard and I don’t feel like mummy’s get much opportunity to talk (or complain, I guess?) about how hard it can be without being shamed. So here ya go mummas, I’ve started the conversation. There is a very big chance that this will be my last pregnancy (I feel like two is a pretty good number – not to mention the boy/girl ratio we got goin’ on), and while I am SO grateful that I was able to carry Taylor and this baby (they are literally the reason for my being in this world), I’m so FREAKING GOSH DARN EXCITED TO HAVE MY BODY BACK. Apart from when I become a walking milk machine the very second our little boy is born, of course.