Pregnant: week 33: when your body yells, your soul whines and your mind is so-out-of-here

It was in the early pregnancy, the second one, that I sat exhausted on the bed and admitted defeat in front of my body and recognized its independence from my will. I thought: I want to be active and do this and that, and what not else, but the body does not. For all this time until then I thought I will always have control over my body. 25 kilometer and cannot run, no Body, we don’t give up, you can do it, let’s finish this marathon, it is all in the head, and so we will finish it. Well, I don’t know how to explain that. I made a quote back then and had it posted on my Instagram feed.
Now my favorite time of the day are these few minutes in the morning when I am just waking up. Woozy from the sleep, having forgotten I am pregnant, the baby in the stomach probably asleep. No acidic reflux, no cramps in the legs and no restless legs. My everything bodily well rested and fresh.

Then I take my four years old to kindergarten and I am already tired with the first step outside the house. Maybe I can eat something nice I tell myself on the way back. And I do, together with the iron supplement. I feel fine and decide on a chunk of chocolate cake, and the chunk becomes a quote of it. Later on, I wonder why am I so dull, and would I be like this from now on. Am I depressed? Should I force myself to get at least a little bit excited or maybe I should just leave the dullness as it is so I can maybe kick the bottom and from there will bounce up, hight in the circle of everyday curiosity and will to know what can be known.

My will to know and curiosity, along with the lightness of setting up for a task, are the things that I miss the most now when I am expecting and when I have to think twice if I will be able to pick up the fork that fell on the floor while I was eating the cake. I have lost the power of convincing myself that something is a good idea, and it is kinda funny because I remember days when I will have running thoughts in my head for what to do and how to solve this and that and will wish for some quiet mind state. Maybe now it is the time for that. If only my body was not so loud about its pain.

32 weeks pregnant, and fatigued

Now is the time when we should have the house impeccably clean, I think. For a first, because I get easily loathed when I see something hard to identify or something that once was fresh. And secondly, because the baby could decide to come any time now. Though my wish to have the house clean is strong, my exhaustion is even stronger. Whenever I get some buzz of energy, I clean around. Surfaces with some food remains are the most disgusting places for me so I try to clean these when I have the most energy because when I have the most energy is the time when I am not fatigued from being exhausted. Dearest Husband helps a lot. He does the cleaning – the nicely done one, and I cannot believe how attuned he had become with my needs. For example, yesterday when I puked heavily, I knew for a fact that there are no clean glasses in the kitchen with thin walls. I hate thick glasses or cups walls – I don’t even know why we have the one that we do. So DH got to the topmost shelf, got the boxed iittala wine glasses with the thinnest walls that we have and purred a cold fresh water so I could swallow the Paracetamol I asked for.

Today the house is again in a mess. I am running the dishwasher, but three key surfaces are still disgusting. The sink in the kitchen, the bathroom sink from the yesterday puking, and the dining table in the living room and the stove surface. A few hours back when I cooked the dinner for when the boys come back, I played The Good Wife on the laptop that I secured on the countertop where I cut all of the necessary ingredients for the dinner, so to get distracted and avoid seeing the mess. The strategy worked, now we have a nice dinner of turkey and rice in soy sauce, yay.

The baby did his morning exercises in front of my language study group, and now is probably asleep. The group I got with at the classes were one Kurdi, one Jemal (not sure where is he from) and one Albanian. I could assume that whatever culture they are coming from practices well covering their women, and there I was, seated next to astonished Jamal who could clearly see the alien in my stomach dancing underneath my tiny tight shirt. We played cards meant for exercising nominative and accusative nouns.

It is time to pick up my son, my back hurts from seating. My head is filled with thoughts staggering in a fog. One day my head will be clear and things will make sense, I hope. Tomorrow is the thirty-second-week exam with the midwife, I am looking forward to that.