I’m still waiting for my original blog to catch up before I release this blog and publish these posts so I’m trying not to write too much. I will post these few in quick succession though so that both blogs end up back in real time.
My estimated due date, EDD, is 13 weeks today! How freaking scared does that make me?
That means, although nothin’s accurate with these things, that I’m on the final third and, seeing as it’s all measured in thirds, the pregnancy journey – No Man’s Land – is on the final stretch. I sometimes worry that I’m not supposed to get worried. That after three years of trying to conceive (TTC) and being diagnosed as having unexplained infertility, that because of all that effort and stress, the fact that treatment worked should make all of this the best thing in the world.
I’m not one of those people that have enjoyed pregnancy. I spent the first 3 months petrified. The second three (which are supposed to be the nicest) flashed by without me realising that they were even there. And now at the beginning of the final three, I already feel too hugely uncomfortable. It hurts to lie on either side or my back. My pubic bone still randomly hurts, although not as bad as at week 19. And I still have 13 weeks to go!
I spent the first three months declaring that I hated the pregnancy so much (not being pregnant, just its effects on my body) that one child will be more than enough. Of course, having had medical help to conceive it’s all together possible that we would need treatment to get pregnant again anyway. But I’m distracting myself from the rest of the hugeness that will happen (although I’m being fed up with being told I’m *too* big) by getting the house in order, buying the bulkier things I need to sort out. I like shopping so it should provide a good distraction.
And although I feel crappy when trying to sleep at night, Baby Bump is more active during the morning so doesn’t keep me awake and going swimming regularly helps me feel better. My lower abdominal pain is only really present when I walk and the rest of the time I feel fine.
If only near strangers and my parents could stop saying I’m far too big and must be having twins or have my dates wrong. They’re about to give me a complex!
~ Persephone M
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