I have reached the point in my pregnancy where I am actually daydreaming about and craving exercise. I love exercise, but I hardly ever do it, because part of me hates it. I have caught myself fantasizing about yoga practice and sit-ups and running on the treadmill, even weight-lifting. I am already designing fitness programs for three, five and six months from now. The way my baby sits it is virtually impossible for me to exercise at this point in time. My lungs are so completely compressed that just trotting up and down the stairs one time requires a complete cool-down routine. Making dinner occasionally becomes an impossibility half-way through preparation. I am forced to sit on a chair and either wait for Sean to get home and finish, or else boss my sweet children around telling them what to stir, what to wash and when to add things.
This morning everything hurt when I woke up. As I lay there I remember thinking, "Why does my stomach hurt? and my back?" Then I rolled over and in the process happened upon my ever-expanding belly, "Oh, yeah! I'm pregnant - that's why everything hurts!"
I really do not enjoy pregnancy - even when I feel really lucky to even
be pregnant. I'm grateful to be almost done with all of this - it is not my cup of tea. I admit I am jealous of women who "love" being pregnant. I can't decide if I have an attitude problem, or if I have legitimate reasons to want to skip over these nine months. For now the sofa is my friend and sleep is a sweet escape from my reality. Two more months. I will survive!
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