Welcome To Hell

I don’t understand women who love being pregnant.   I can understand being so-so with it, or being resigned to it but loving it? Yeah, who are these people?  Overall I have pretty normal, uneventful pregnancies and for a woman of my “advanced maternal age” I’m grateful for that.  I experience the usual spectrum of uncomfortable symptoms; indigestion, a little nausea, some back aches, etc.  Usually my ailments are manageable, non-dangerous and uneventful.  That is, until now.

Last Wednesday the baby “dropped”.  I know she dropped because I had an entire day of painful contractions followed by the feeling that a little person was sitting on my rectum.  When considering the possibilities of where a child could place itself in your body the rectum is not a “happy” place.  After three or four days I began to notice that something didn’t “feel” right.  It became painful to stand, sit, walk.  I chalked this up to late pregnancy discomfort and marched on with my daily activities. By Sunday I was in P-A-I-N and discovered that my sweet little girl had given me hemorrhoids.  I’ve NEVER in my entire life had a hemorrhoid. Why? Why would God do this to me? Why?

I sheepishly divulged my discovery to David who responded by laughing for ten minutes and telling me to not be such a baby. I punished his insensitive remarks by making him go to the drugstore to buy hemorrhoid cream and NOTHING else. Thus drawing acute attention to the embarrassing product he was purchasing.  Having never experienced this particular ailment before I consulted “Dr. Google” who assured me that I would be fine in a couple of days with rest and warm baths.  Except it wasn’t getting better it was getting worse.  And every time I complained about the pain David seemed exasperated and would utter; “it is just hemorrhoids. Lots of people get them”.  I’m sure many people do have them but how do they function?

On Tuesday I woke up to the sight of a lot of blood.  I instantly wanted to do a victory lap around the house screaming to David “SEE! I WAS NOT EXAGGERATING! I WAS IN REAL PAIN AND THERE IS THE PROOF! I’M DYING!”  However, the acute pain and the ax-murder-esque scene in our bathroom was a bit distracting.  I called the doctor with the announcement that something was “WRONG” and how did I know that? Dr. Google told me.  My doctor though, being the professionally trained medical person that she is, was not worried.

What happened at the doctor’s office can only be classified in the department of both horrifying AND embarrassing.  Just when you think your children can no longer embarrass you any longer the one within your womb finds a new low to pull you down to. Both frustrated and frightened I made David come into the examining room with me.  I’m afraid he may never touch me ever again.  Of course David found this to be a great opportunity to make jokes at my expense and the doctor, sensing his jovial nature, joined in. I, on the other hand, being naked from the waist down and feeling a whole new type of physical violation just focused on not throwing up.

And this, this combination of pain, disgust, embarrassment and physical horribleness – do these women who LOOOOVVEE being pregnant never experience this? Or do they find this as a great way to get attention.  Because honestly, right now, while I type this, I have both children climbing on the couch I’m resting on whining and hitting each other.  There are more dirty dishes than clean dishes in the house.  There are more toys on the floor than on the shelves. My children are living off of goldfish crackers and juice boxes (and I can’t promise they haven’t shared the kitty food with the cat). And this is supposed to be a “magical” time in my life?  This is supposed to make me feel beautiful and wonderful and a vessel for God’s miracle of life? Because the only miracle happening in my life right now is the fact that David and I haven’t killed each other or the kids. Or possibly that the health department hasn’t condemned our house.

David promises me that some day – some day soon – I will look back on this and laugh.  Maybe I will, but right now all the laughing is happening through tears.

4 thoughts on “Welcome To Hell”

  1. Oooh, I laughed. Funny.

    My last child gave me hemorrhoids. Not painful ones but big enough that the nurse said, after I gave birth and was checking on me, “My, those are big hemorrhoids!” THANKS, LADY. I was making them just for you.

    Within hours after birth they were gone. And it was just one more reason why I said, “I AM NEVER BEING PREGNANT AGAIN. If you really want another kid, we’re BUYING IT.” Not that he wanted another kid.

    I so hate being pregnant and so can’t handle another kid, that we use condoms WITH the vasectomy.

    (Talk about oversharing.)

  2. Jane – so, I was far sicker with Max than Lucy. As a matter of fact I actually threw up with Max where I didn’t throw up with either Lucy or this little girl. My Ob told me at the time that any time you have a dramatically different reaction to the hormones of pregnancy it is usually due to a switch in sex. Here is keeping my fingers crossed for you.

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