Vegas is already such a trooper. He puts up with the constant ramming of my belly into doorways in the small door frames in our house. He also tolerates yard work well, only giving me occasional hard times when I’m hiking up the slope of our back yard. I can only imagine that he will be soothed by the summer sounds of the lawn mower, as opposed to the sound of vacuuming (since we have hardwood floors). He doesn’t give me heartburn or kick too often, though he does like to orbit, what I’m assuming is, his butt from side to side on my belly. He tends to settle on the right side of my body, which makes me feel lopsided some days. He still loves himself a hiccup. He’s also patient with our constant male pronouns, especially if he is a she.
Of course, I’m paying for his cooperation in a variety of sleepless and uncomfortable ways, but mostly in the form of swollen feet and hands. I’ll be spending the next five weeks doing a variety of interpretive feet-propping, hand-raising dances. As scary as my ankles and feet look, they don’t feel uncomfortable (yet). My hands, on the other hand (ba doom boom), are a constant source of numbness, then tingling, then aching, then more numbness. I’ve also lost a lot of dexterity in them, like an old arthritic lady. I have trouble opening jars or really grasping anything, including a pen. I’m trying to offset some swelling with drinking a lot of water and dandelion tea. Don’t mind me over here in my office with my arms raised like I’m going down the first hill of a roller coaster. Nothing to see here, folks.
Is there a point in the later half of the third trimester when we can just assume I’m uncomfortable? Sort of like the morning sickness – unless I point out that I’m NOT nauseous, let’s just assume that I am until further notice. Can we also assume that I’m doing everything that my wife, my OB, the internet, and crystal ball tell me to do to make things “better”? Better as in, not perfect, and not still complain-worthy?
In other news, my wife noticed last night that our “Today I Fee” Magnetic Mood Meter that lives on the fridge has been stuck on “exhausted” for about a month and a half. If that doesn’t sum up things, I don’t know what does. I keep waiting for this nesting burst of energy to happen upon me, but I feel like maybe I took out a slow-trickle loan upfront on it and have been using it to get through the past few weeks.
The good news is we only have one more trip to make out of town (up to see Mr. Very Nice Lawyer). All that’s left is living in our house while it’s still relatively quiet.