Today is 7/11/2016. My due date was 7/9/2016. In the scheme of things, that's really not that late, but it feels late because I'm in THAT much pain.
Pregnancy is hard on the body. It drains you of your nutrients, vitamins, mobility, dignity, and a whole bunch of other stuff, I'm sure.
With G and J, my teeth died. I had such pretty, resilient teeth in my first 20 years, but with G, my wisdom teeth decided to make an appearance and immediately cause problems, so those were removed when she was still tiny. I'm sure there were other problems but those were not discovered or addressed. It only got worse with J, and the dental work needed to recover from what he drained from my mouth has yet to be fully addressed. I was remiss, I should have scheduled all the dental work while Husband was still in the Army, but I didn't, and now, while Baby (to be retitled after birth) is not actually having much effect on my teeth, she is a bit of an obstacle to me getting them fixed.
Additionally, with each subsequent pregnancy the battery of physical woes has worsened. G wasn't so agonizing; I maintained a retail job very far into the pregnancy, but with J I had crippling sciatica and awful late-pregnancy Charlie horse cramps in my legs that once actually had Husband jumping up in the middle of the night, ready to assist me to the car for labor. And now, with Baby, I've had sciatica (resolved early and quickly thanks to chiropractic care), round ligament pain (resolved the same way), and most recently, and severely, massive hip pain. It's so bad I walk around like a zombie. I skipped church yesterday because I couldn't walk, and that is something I HATE doing. I got a chiropractic adjustment on 7/8, but on 7/9 we went to Denny's for breakfast because I can't stand to cook lately, (and we like Denny's) and while there, I needed to use the restroom. J came with me because he's almost completely potty-trained and needed to go too. We went, washed hands, and just as I was side-stepping to grab the door handle, my flip flop (when will I learn to quit wearing them?) caught a seam in the floor. I started to fall (for a 3rd time; I have a habit of falling this time around), so I caught myself...at the expense of all the work the chiropractor had done the day before. It was so discouraging, my hormones jumped up and made me choke up. I don't like crying in public, so when Husband asked what was wrong, why I looked like someone hit my puppy, I couldn't answer. Enter in Papa Bear, who immediately wondered if someone in the bathroom had violated me, verbally or otherwise, and he was ready to go to war. He and J went to the car, and I stayed to pay (compared to wrestling J into the van, standing in line to pay the bill is a snap, so don't judge him for lack of chivalry), and got distracted. The minute I finished and returned to my place, Husband said, "What happened?" I told him about almost falling and he was immediately relieved he didn't have to march back inside to lay a crackdown on someone.
So, today, and yesterday, we are stuck. I can barely get up to go to the bathroom, yet we have occasionally left the house. And so I lean all over the shopping cart to get anywhere. But for now, until I have to scoot to the hospital, my green recliner is my go-to spot for resting...until J acts up in the bathroom, or his room, or the kitchen, or inevitably any room that is NOT the living room. It's time for this baby to come out, so my hip can return to normal and the only thing that keeps me in my chair is a tiny person, not physical, personal pain. LET'S GO, GIRL CHILD.
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