My belly is huge; my emotions are scattered; my sleep is sporadic; every inch of my body is achy; and my insulin doses are being adjusted every day – welcome to the home stretch baby.
On Thursday, we officially hit the 30-week mark, which means if everything goes as planned Big Ring and I will be meeting our little thumb-sucking alien baby in just under two and a half months. And if those months are anything like the last week has been, I might as well just extend my pre-apologies right now to my dear husband.
I may have driven him to crazy Roger Rabbit status this week!
This week I was on holidays and it was a tough go for me. I’m an active person, I like to keep busy, I like to do things, but these days, I can barely climb a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing. There’s been no hiking (unlike my last holidays), hardly any walking, hardly anything at all.
My view of anything athletic these days is generally in sit-down mode like I was while watching the Gastown Gran Prix last Wednesday.
And while we did spend a few days in Penticton last weekend, it didn’t feel like a real vacation in that I wasn’t as mobile, didn’t have oodles of energy or a dance in my step like I would have pre-pregnancy. I was achingly uncomfortable, sauna hot, and sweating buckets – seriously I was close to becoming a freaking nudist!
The view from Poplar Grove Vineyard.
As well, this week was the second week of Tour de France time; traditionally the start of Big Ring’s two-week cycling holiday, which has him getting up before the crack of dawn to watch hours of cycling before heading out himself for hours on the Lapierre… something I’ve always supported. But this year, it was like a freaking emotional tug-of-war for me. On the one hand, I felt like I was holding him back when he didn’t go for a ride, but on the other I was super jealous when he did kit up.
One of many holiday rides for Big Ring.
And yep, a meltdown did ensue. However, said meltdown may have resulted in an act I have never before done, never had any desire to do, never ever thought I would do, but after doing so, it may soon become a filthy little habit…
This was huge for me. I do not like feet, I do not like my feet, and I most definitely do not like people touching my feet. But my gawd, sitting in that massage chair, with my feet soaking in the tub (I sure as heck hope I don’t get any nasty germs) I nearly passed out from all the bliss. I still had issues with them touching my feet, and nearly kicked the girl in the face a couple times, but after the polish was put on, I seriously haven’t been able to take my eyes off my toes – and I’m actually wearing shoes to show off my toes! SHOCKING!!!
A little pregnancy pampering was all a princess needed it seems … now, how do I get my hands on one of those chairs 😉
30 weeks: tug of war was first published July 15, 2012.