This pregnancy has had its ups and downs. But at this point, 33 weeks along, I'm just a straight up hot mess. I've pulled an ab muscle AGAIN. Although it's been explained to me that the muscles are technically tearing as this ginormous belly continues to grow, I don't want to get technical. I just want to SIT UP on my own, for goodness sake.
Still, as I attempted to roll over in bed the other day, I got hit with a searing pain, and boom - torn ab muscle. I wince every time I try to move. There is a lot of uncomfortable grunting and cursing under my breath. I'm not proud of it. But I can't help it.
You never realize how much you depend on your abs until they are gone. It's like a nasty divorce between your grandparents. You just can't envision them apart, until suddenly your grandma is online dating and your grandpa is hitting on all the nurses and you long for the days of ugly hand knitted sweaters and dry fruitcake.
I've been abandoned by my abdomen. And it hurts.
I was never one of those girls with a six-pack who would do sit-ups in nothing but a sports bra and running shorts. My abs were more the strong and silent type. You couldn't see them, but I could throw my 50-pound son up in the air, or get out of bed with ease. I knew they were there for me.
Now that there are 3 of us taking up residence in this body, my abs have jumped ship. Can you blame them?
This morning the pain was so bad, I was stuck curled in a ball on my side and couldn't get up. Along with the ab pain, I had a new unpleasant sensation. It felt like someone had punched me in my left kidney and the cramping was intense.
My son and I were playing swords as I recklessly wielded a plastic Katana sword with one hand and, still curled in a ball, clutched my side with the other. I flashed back to an article I'd read earlier this week all about how Gal Gadot was actually five months pregnant during the reshoots for Wonder Woman and suddenly felt defeated that I couldn't even sit myself up to play with my son.
Then it hit me. Literally. Out of nowhere a (thankfully soft) softball bounced off my face as I heard the words "Catch, Mommy" ring out in the distance. My son has impeccable aim and a strong arm and nailed me square in the face.
The ball dropped to the floor and the tears started falling.
My face was fine. But my belly hurt so bad, I could no longer take it. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe because of the pain. The belly was hard as a rock and I was uncomfortable in every position. I could feel the babies moving, so I knew everything was okay with them. My best guess? It's probably gas. Because of a torn/shredded/separated ab muscle and a little gas, I am crumpled in a ball getting my ass kicked by a 3-year-old.
I am decidedly NOT Wonder Woman.
My son, worried about me, asked why I was sad. I explained my tummy hurt and he offered to carry me to the doctor. Such a sweet gesture. Almost makes up for pummeling me in the face with a baseball.
Five more weeks till these babies arrive. Only three more weeks till they are considered full term and they can come whenever they damn well please. The c-section will do another number on my abs, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it. And I'm guessing I'll be crossing that bridge in a wheelchair and on heavy morphine. Thank you Jesus!
Despite all the pain, I know I still get to count myself in the "lucky" category. This pain will pass and eventually be forgotten, replaced by new parenting worries, sore nipples and sleepless nights. But all these things pass, and in the end the only thing I'll remember is the love. Hopefully my abs will reunite and forgive me as well.
A girl can dream.
On the bright side, I may be exhausted and uncomfortable but this pregnancy still has my son jumping for joy. In fact, he's decided he also has a baby in his belly. "Just one baby mama, two is too many".