34-Week Appointment

At my 34-week appointment right before the Labor Day Weekend I was in and out in a flash. The baby's heart beat is now in the high 130s, right where it should be, and with a measurement of 34 centimeters, I'm following the growth charts with measurements corresponding to the number of weeks I am in my pregnancy. I was chipper and full of energy and the doctor was impressed with how easily I still pop up from a reclining position on the exam table without any assistance. How are you doing? Any discomfort? "Nah, I replied. I'm doing great!"

Three days later, I noticed a mild soreness in my fingers and I couldn't comfortably make a tight fist. Now I know why pregnant women are known for dropping things. I couldn't discern any swelling, but knew it had to be the culprit. While swelling is uncomfortable to look at, and certainly isn't flattering, it never occurred to me that you feel physical side effects to it.

By that night, the baby had completed two straight hours of what felt like somersaults inside me. It was cute when it was smaller and had more room to maneuver, but each movement caused incredible discomfort as it bounced a limb off the uterine wall or took a break directly on what felt like my bladder. Certain sensations I can't put into words, (Other than, am I feeling the baby grab an intestine?) and while they are better described as discomforting rather than painful, they still caught my breath and left me unable to sit still. I finally retreated to the bedroom where I hoped gravity could relieve some discomfort by pulling the baby off my bladder.

My emotional state wasn't admittedly the greatest at this peak of discomfort, but being surrounded by 20-something guys who have never spent such an extended period of time in close contact with a pregnant woman, as was the case when we all spent the weekend together at the cabin Up North, was not providing the emotional comfort I was seeking. They all, my own husband included, barely looked up from their card game. He finally excused himself to see what I was making such a fuss about and reported back that "Kirsten's 'uncomfortable.'" I could picture their eyes rolling. Yes, accurately and succinctly put, I was "uncomfortable." But "uncomfortable" covers a wide range, and I was at the point where I couldn't articulate in what ways I was uncomfortable, because I didn't know precisely what was causing it. (Other than that because there was a baby in there.) And if I had tried to describe it, and prove to them that I had something real to complain about, I would have been accused of providing "too much information."

It's not that I wanted to be done with pregnancy at that point. Really, I had gotten used to being enormously pregnant and awkward. I just didn't want to be in discomfort anymore, and wanted to stop feeling bitter that I was left to feel like a mess while my husband was feeling none of it and couldn't wait to go back to his card game. Distraction and some extra attention were the only remedies I could think of at that point and I wasn't getting it.

Now that I'm nearing my 36th week, I'm grudgingly accepting that some of the physical side effects of pregnancy, those that I thought with good health, lots of hydration and routine exercise would be prevented, are afflicting even me. The soreness in my fingers is still there, except now I notice swelling, especially when I wake up in the morning. It was a badge of honor to still be able to fit my wedding ring on my finger, but I'm glad now that I stopped wearing it a few weeks ago as a precautionary measure. My feet swell and feel sore if I've been standing on them for too long, so I've been telling myself it's okay to actually relax and literally put my feet up. Meanwhile, my sleep is disrupted by extremities that go numb and by the time I wake up for good in the morning, my hips are usually sore, probably because I'm left with just the options of either sleeping on my left side or my right side. And now that my husband has said goodbye to summer after a final weekend at the cabin, I've finally gotten his attention back. Cuddling with him on the couch is very soothing and I feel as if I could fall asleep in his arms. But our mellow time together is interrupted far too quickly by, "Sorry, sweetie, I've got to go the bathroom."