Thursday, March 21, 2013



          Although "confinement" is a term more used for labor, this word has been on my mind. I always wondered what was up with women who needed to be "confined" towards the end of their pregnancy. I mean really? Get over it. Sure it's uncomfortable & hard to move around. But get on with life. 

             Boy have I been bitterly eating those words. I'm not sure why this pregnancy has been so much more difficult than the rest. 

Maybe because I'm over 30 now? 
It's number 5 & my body is done with this process? 
Or is it the fact that I've had 5 kids in 8 years? 

Hmmmmmm. For whatever reason, I am frickin MISERABLE & long to be confined. Or maybe just be put out to pasture. 

             These last 8-9 weeks have been complete torture on my mind & body. Terrible aches, pains, spasms, mood swings, crying (more than usual), anger, depression.  I have been so tired that I can lay in bed all day & still feel exhausted. I avoid people so I don't get upset. It seems I've been sick every other week for 3 months. My ears have been clogged for over a month. No clothes fit because I have gained so much more weight than ever before. And I still have 5 more weeks to go. 5 weeks. 

           My poor Jared cringes at the thought. Doesn't like watching me be miserable. He has been my rock through all this. The only person I can stand to be around. I even get tired of my wonderful children. Just give me my Jared, who happens to never be home & have plenty of other responsibilities then take care of pitiful me.  Even though I am being this super crazy woman, Jared still loves & supports me. Even the crazy me. Which is a large part at the moment.  

       Many times I have to look at my belly & wonder who is in there. Remember why I am going through this hell. Remember how bad it was the other times I was expecting, but look to see who came to be in my family. I love my kids. I'd do anything for them. It makes me feel better for a moment. Till I think of how someone looked at me last week & I start crying or go into a heated rage. 

       The boys have asked why I'm so sick & when I'm going to get better. I told them I was this bad when they were in my belly. I tell them I'd do it again just so they can come into this world to be a part of my life. It makes them smile to think I did this for them too. 

        5 short weeks. Or will they be long? Can I make it to church each Sunday where I hear the word "pop" 20 times or see the pitiful looks given my way? Go to the store without wanting to yell at someone in my way. I mean really, you're going to make me move out of the way? I can barley walk & have 4 kids hanging off my cart. You move. How many more times will my middle finger make an appearance as I honk at the idiots driving around me? Will Jared's pajama pants still fit? Will my kids still like me by the end? How much more stretching can my skin tolerate?

        So please, c.o.n.f.i.n.e. me. 

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