Today I was told “You look really big, but you don’t look miserable.” And my aunt just wrote in an e-mail “I think you must be a post card for a happy expectant Mom. You may not always feel that way but really, you just glow.”
The fact is: I’m not miserable. I’m a little uncomfortable, I’m warmer than I’m used to being (this means that we actually agree on the air conditioner setting this summer), and my ankles puff up every night, but I’m not miserable. I’ve enjoyed being pregnant – once I stopped throwing up, especially. All in all, I have had a very good time of it. I don’t have varicose veins, hemorrhoids, or blood glucose problems. My blood pressure is great, the little bit of indigestion I’m getting is controllable and I can still drive, and walk comfortably.
One of the great things about pregnancy is that it is finite. I think that is what makes it enjoyable at this stage. I know that I am not facing an indefinite period of time in this state, so I can enjoy the fact that never in my life have I been told so often “Sit down, put your feet up, take it easy.” I can revel in the attention of everyone saying to me “Oh my goodness, I bet you’re hot. When are you due?” I can bask in the extra help people are willing to give me, and the knowing smiles I get from women – especially grandma age women – and the softness people have for new life.
So I’m big, and puffy and clumsy, but I’m not miserable. I just can’t imagine wanting something so badly for so long, and being miserable at this point.