There seems to be something about hitting the “30-somethings” that seems to get my brain into thinking of the countdown. Perhaps it’s the sudden increase in discomfort over the last week or two but I’m wondering how on earth I am going to make it another eight weeks. It seems a lifetime away, even though it isn’t.
Everything is getting difficult now. Picking things up, bending down, even trying to reach the taps on the basin is getting awkward as my belly is protruding further than my arms can comfortably stretch, so I am having to bend forward which is a task in itself as my balance is also off course. I am feeling like I do in the last week or two of a singleton pregnancy, where I’m wondering how much longer I can possibly stretch, how much more I can possibly grow and how much heavier I can possibly become.
My belly is getting very heavy. I am not keen to get a support belt as I am also finding myself not wanting to be restricted by anything at all. Even my loose waisted trousers are annoying me as they are getting too tight, or so it seems. Unfortunately, my raggedy pyjamas would probably be frowned upon if I were to wear them constantly. It is a shame, as they are just about the only things I find remotely comfortable at the moment.
Night times are getting hard. I’m waking either because I need to empty the pea sized bladder I own or because I feel I am about to throw up with the heartburn. A new development this week is feeling like I have an elephant strapped to my front. When I lie on my side, my bump pulls down thanks to gravity, stretching one side of my body and feeling painfully uncomfortable on the side it’s leaning on. I wake, needing to move around but cannot easily do so. I then begin contorting my arms, trying to reach up to grip the headboard in order to try and manoeuvre myself around with one arm whilst simultaneously trying to support the lead-weight attached to me with the other arm. I am aware that I am possibly disturbing Mike and that he must be getting annoyed with me already. In all honesty, I’m annoying myself. It’s not enough for turning in bed to have become an Olympic event, but I’m grunting away with the force of a shot putter while doing so and it’s getting on my own nerves!
My back aches and the braxton hicks are increasing in frequency and in strength. I have had my breath taken away a few times. And the round ligament pain is no fun.
One of my friends had her status on her Facebook inviting people to come along to a beach trip. I replied that I daren’t as Greenpeace would come along and try to roll me back into the water.
Despite my moaning, I know that these things are nothing but minor discomforts. I know and appreciate that I have been very lucky with a pretty much uneventful and easy pregnancy. I am thankful and grateful to be here, to have the privilege of complaining about aches and being uncomfortable, knowing that our babies are growing well and are safe and healthy. I don’t for one moment want to forget how lucky and blessed I am.
Still now that my complaining is done I will update that the babies seem to be doing well. Both are very active and it’s fun watching the mini earthquake in my belly every evening. To think I could be watching reality TV instead. I can’t determine which twin in particular is moving although Twin 1 on my left seems to be very much more active than Twin 2. They are definitely running out of room as the movements are becoming more like rolls and stretches rather than flips and turns. The shapes my belly takes are great fun to watch, and even a little freaky too!
I have taken this week’s photo and posted it at the top as usual. It seems to be sticking out a little more this week. What do you think?