UNCLE!!!!!!

I surrender. I surrender to this pregnancy. Pregnancy, you have won. Now please, PLEASE give me a break.

My plan was to do a four-part series of posts documenting my three previous pregnancies and labors and then this last one. But I must jump to the finale of my series and give a little preview of what is on my mind.

First of all, I must express how grateful I am to be pregnant, how fortunate I know that I am to be able to get pregnant, and what a miracle this whole process is.

But moving on, this has been - by far - my most difficult pregnancy. I have been blessed with pretty moderate pregnancies. There was bed rest with Luke, but that wasn't painful, just inconvenient. But for every pregnancy I have had pretty intense ligament stretching pain. That is what my doctor claims my pain is. But I think that someone has stuck a knife up the baby's escape route and stabs me with it frequently. And this pregnancy has been off-the-charts unbearable.

I know what you're all thinking. "Oh, yeah. The ligament stretching. That is bad. That hurts." No. Please don't patronize me with thinking that you, too, have the same ligament stretching as me. This is one of those rare instances where I SWEAR that I have worse pain in this department than all of you. I have only met one other person who has this knife-stabbing to the degree that I have it. It is worse after you have been sitting for any length of time and then stand up. This girl told me of how she was sitting at her desk at work and stood up and screamed out in pain and fell onto her desk, causing a huge scene in the office. This girl knows what I'm talking about.

I can barely walk without feeling intense pain. Sometimes I can't walk up my stairs. Jakob has had to meet me half-way up the stairs and help me finish before. I can't bend or clean or anything. And it has been so frustrating, overwhelming, and exhausting. I feel the nesting instinct inside of me, but I can't do anything about it. Jakob has stepped up tremendously, but he is getting burnt out, too.

But my pregnancy got the last laugh this weekend. It was the 'Father and Sons' campout on Friday. Jakob tried to hint that he was giving me another break this weekend, but I was keeping Jude with me, so I think who got the 'break' could definitely be debated. The boys left. Jude was sad. He was being extremely emotional and our guess is getting sick because he always acts so difficult when he is sick. He was begging to run errands (one of his favorite things to do), so I complied.

We left the house. He wanted me to carry him. I tried to resist, but his tears were flowing and I just wanted to get to the car. I know that every mother out there has carried their toddler when super pregnant. Don't judge me. Don't deny it. It happens to the best of us.



So I'm carrying Jude down the driveway, which always makes the knife stab me extra hard, and my body gave out and I tripped, head first, down the driveway. My guardian angel was there in an instant (and I'm guessing he rolls with a posse because of my increased girth and random cries of pain) and we were miraculously saved. It seems like Jude was lifted out of my arms and laid softly in the grass. My landing was less graceful, but I rolled on my side so my belly was unscathed.

Just a concrete burn on my right knee and some of my toenail taken off. No pain, just a ruined pedicure. But then when I went to stand, I couldn't. I couldn't stand on my left foot. I tried to brush it off and limped to the car. But while in the car the throbbing started. We hit a drive-thru for some dinner and then went back home. I could barely limp to the house and this time Jude had no choice and had to walk in himself. When I got inside I didn't know what to do. Of course, Jakob wasn't home. Was my foot broken? I knew it wasn't because the pain left when I elevated it. But I couldn't bare any weight on it. I decided to go to the ER anyway in hopes that they would at least wrap it really well.

Long story longer: Not broken, but sprained. Couldn't walk on it so they gave me some crutches. I crutched out through the lobby, smiled at the front desk and told them thank-you, pushed through the knife stabbing that was growing worse with every hop, and broke down into huge, loud, uncontrollable sobs the minute the ER doors closed behind me. I sobbed the entire way to pick up Jude and the entire way home after that.

When we got home I tried to put Jude to bed, but I'm guessing he had a stomach bug or something because he was thrashing around his crib and crying and inconsolable until 2:30 am when he finally fell asleep after a fervent prayer. It was a long night. My foot felt much better the next morning, and I felt a little foolish for going to the ER, but I didn't know what else to do. Now it is still difficult to bare weight on my foot, but I can limp around just fine. I think I'll be completely healed in a week.

I just don't understand what lesson I am supposed to learn by the gradual increase in difficulty and pain that this pregnancy continues to present to me. Sympathy for disabled mothers? I swear I had sympathy for them before. Sensitivity for others who have extremely difficult pregnancies? I've always been sensitive to those poor things! A continuing confirmation that this is to be my last pregnancy, don't even think about another one? Possibly. But right now I'm thinking all of this had to happen for me to build up enough backbone to call up my OB and demand to be induced this week or else. She will definitely hear from me in the morning.