My Pregnancy: Week 22


pregnancy week 22

I know people—you know the people—who one-up you in all situations. Let’s just start out by establishing that is helpful for no one. It’s especially not helpful for this mama who is on three weeks of sick children, spouse, and/or self in the midst of a more-stressful-than-usual month. The holidays dance around us; my mother just had surgery; our babysitter moved away. Oh, yeah. Then there is that whole pregnancy thing. Although it’s hard to tell which of these things is most responsible for the sheer exhaustion I feel this week.


I’m a chipper gal, one not quick to complain. I try to be thoughtful about my frustrations, process my emotions, and I’m not big on making things worse than they “really” are. But boy howdy, telling me “suck it up, it’ll be harder when you have three” is not helpful to anyone at any time. Sure, go ahead and recount how you have four children and one nearly had the plague while you yourself suffered from “something one symptom away from Ebola.” I’ll empathize. But right now I’m so tired. I’m sooo tired. Can you, please stranger lady, please just stop talking and turn away your judging glances? I’m running a low-grade fever and am exhausted, my sons are not able to contain their bodily fluids, and we are stuck here in the pharmacy that has “lost” our prescription for the second time.


It’s been a rough few weeks but this was the climax. Take deep breaths, I remind myself. Recall that yoga training on presence, patience, and perseverance. Oh wait. No. My son just threw up. As someone who prefers the sunny side of the street, I see the bright side of this as the stranger lady who survived the plague moves away a few seats. A moment of golden silence comes as a courteous store manager arrives and our scripts fill immediately, seemingly effortlessly. If only he’d thrown up a thirty minutes ago!


Home again, I take a deep breath. We all cuddle up on mommy and daddy’s bed, currently covered in waterproof pads with towels on the ground. Hello sweet sleep. I’ve missed you. Daddy gets home before we wake, and the house is cleaned up and some semblance of sanity comes over our safe haven of a home.


Week 22, with assistance from prior weeks, officially kicked my pregnant butt. I’m more thankful for hubby who’s been picking up my slack. I must give a shout-out to my parents who are usually my second line of defense. With my mom being down these last few weeks I have new appreciation for how much she does for us by taking the kiddos for a night here or an afternoon there.


Ah yes, I’m chipper again. Week 23, you’ve met your match!


Annie is a mom of two toddlers who is still alive and well despite coming in contact with what was one symptom away from being the plague.

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