I've really enjoyed this journey of pregnancy. Despite the re-entering of puberty-like changes that have occured in my body for the past nine months, it's been kinda fun. Ok. The throwing up. Not fun. The constant nausea. Not fun. The uncertainty of when I need to go to the bathroom. Like really go. Not just drip. Not fun. But the belly changes. SO MUCH FUN! And the feeling of her little body right up next to mine, priceless. She wasn't much of a kicker, or a squirmer, or even a hic-coupher. She just moved when she needed to and would pound on the inside of my belly if something was squashing her. Something necessary like a seat belt or when I would lay against Steven on the couch. So pretty much, we've had an awesome relationship. Not gonna lie, I wasn't in love with her when she was a bacteria (those would be my brother's words) in my stomach making me sick. But ever since she's become a little lady we've gotten along fine, giving and taking as necessary in comfort. I hope we can keep it that way.
I thought I was doing awesome. That the hard parts were over and that all I needed to worry about now was what in the world it felt like to need to go to the hospital. Until my feet started swelling. I don't know if it is the feeling of stepping on them or the pure grossness of looking at fat piggy toes that is worse. Either way, there was a very uncomfortable week where my feet would swell for no reason and my back would ache like crazy.
Poor Steven would rub and knead everything that hurt right before I went to bed so that I could get to sleep and he would have to start all over again in the morning so that I could get up in the morning and get myself into the shower where the heat would loosen everything up and I could get on my way without making his hands fall off with muscular dystrophy. Painful for both of us.
For Christmas I was loaded up with massage everything. A lower vertebrae massager, a foot bath and a handheld massager that would reach my back or my feet or whatever needed to be given a good go-over. Including my brothers' heads at some points while they were staying with us. You know. For kicks and giggles. We even may have tested it out on my belly. Shhhh. Steven was giving his last shot to my comfort at this point.
Well. The lower vertebrae massager was a miss, as was the foot bath that did nothing but get my feet wet. The handheld massager was a winner because he could use it on my and push as hard as I needed him to without losing circulation in his hands or having the muscles in them cramp up. It was glorious.
One of the girls was watching me painfully waddle around at work and suggested using either epsom salt or baking soda in the water of a foot bath to help with the swelling. I was so excited that I had a special dish to dip my dainty feet in so that I could try this! Oh, and it even blows bubbles. Exciting, right? I got home that night and Steven filled the bath up with some warm water and I loaded it up with baking soda. Whether baking soda truly expires or not, I don't know, but I do know that it did nothing for my swelling. Instead, when I lifted them up out of the water to check on their condition I had fatty baking soda biscuits for feet. My feet were no longer feet. They were swollen to round balls and covered in baking soda dusty grime. Sitting still was just too much for them to handle, I guess. It was all I could do not to stare at them as I rinsed them in the tub and got into bed. I couldn't believe that those appendages belonged to me! I've got long toes to begin with, and seeing them red and puffed up like little smokies was almost too much for me to handle. Even if I wasn't sick, I didn't feel so hot because of those ugly little things protruding out of what used to be a gloriously thin ankle attached to a well defined calf. Not going to lie, as enjoyable as this whole pregnancy thing has been, I am ready to be thin.
No comments:
Post a Comment