I have learned a lot about the limitations of pregnancy this week. I have mostly learned that I am no longer in control. I guess this is part of “motherhood” that I need to start getting used to!
I caught a slight cold last week. No big deal, really, just a little sore throat, slight congestion, and a feeling that I should sleep it off. So, I took a day off of work, mostly to be proactive and, though I felt fine over the weekend, took it easy and slept a lot then too. I went back to work on Monday, a little later than usual since it was the first week that I was to cut back on my hours (again, just a preventive measure to make sure I was being very kind to myself). Monday and Tuesday didn’t feel quite right (dizzy and a bit nauseous), but what really got my attention was mid-week when I couldn’t handle Wednesday’s pre-natal yoga class. I could only do half the stretching before I’d start to feel "off," dizzy and like I should lie down. I even took a break and rested in the bathroom for a couple minutes to give myself a little pep-talk: “You can handle yoga… it’s just stretching and breathing…no big deal and hardly any exertion!” No use. The instructor also noticed I wasn’t feeling well and helped me get comfortable lying down while the rest of the class finished the stretches. I was a little scared and even more embarrassed.
I puzzled rational explanations during the ride back home and Paul was getting concerned as well. By morning, I still felt the same. I figured that I must be anemic (that would explain all the symptoms) and called my doctor who wanted to see me that afternoon. I figured that he’d just give me some iron supplements and, within a couple days, I’d be back to feeling normal again with additional “zip” and energy. After the “one-over,” I was informed I’m not anemic, just a little run-down from the cold and very big. Most women who measure my size, he reminded me, are in their 8th month. Breathing for me is like having a collapsed lung or breathing through a straw. He sent me home with a note excusing me from work (not kidding) for the next day and told me to cut back even further if I didn’t feel 100% by Monday.
Disbelief set in. I’m not ready to cut back any more; it’s too early. I’m already frustrated that I’m having to cut back on all sorts of normal activities: carrying groceries from the car, cleaning the car, lifting my dog into/out of the car (she has bad hips), putting away dishes in the higher shelves, etc. I can’t reach my sweater shelf anymore in the closet and need to ask Paul to get my shoes for me. Heck, I’m even having trouble getting in/out of the bathtub without Paul’s help. It's easier to justify the potentially physically straining cut-backs. There isn't much physically involved with this stuff, though. My job is not that hard; pre-natal yoga is not that hard. What’s hard is believing that I have to start cutting back on this easy stuff. What’s even more difficult is realizing that I still have 13 more weeks and I may have to dumb-down my activities even further. What does that leave me? A bunch of Oprah and web-surfing?
So, things are happening a lot faster than I expected. I need to create a paradigm shift in my thinking: It’s good that the babies are bigger for their age; it gives them an advantage. It’s good that I’m being forced to “let go”; it may be my last opportunity to “take care of me first” for the next 18-years. It’s good that I can’t do anymore household chores; Paul will get used to doing them for me (well, we know that won’t happen - that's a bit far-fetched, but perhaps I can get him used to a housecleaner??).
