Confession time. I’ve gotten a lot of pats on the back and looks of awe for having two babies at home, all natural. People say things like, “You must have a really high pain tolerance,” and “You’re so brave,” and “You’re like Superwoman. I could never do that.” I kind of laugh it off and move on. I’m not too good with those kind of conversations. And I know the truth. The truth is that I am a wimp.
Yes, you read it right. A total wimp. I honestly don’t know how I endured two drug-free home births. But for the grace of God and the total hatred of all things hospital-ish, I would not have. And here in the beginnings of my third pregnancy, as I begin preparing myself mentally for another at-home childbirth, I am seeing the total wimpiness that is me.
Examples? You want ‘em?
I get a headache and I cease to function. Literally. I don’t read, I don’t write, I don’t cook, I don’t clean, I lay around on the couch and do what is absolutely necessary to keep my children safe and happy. I take ibuprofen and whine until my headache is gone. And we’re not talking about migraines. Oh, no. If I got migraines, I would probably have killed myself long ago, except that I would never kill myself because I think it must hurt at some point, no matter how you do it.
My pregnancies have been really easy. I have friends who vomited multiple times a day for their entire pregnancies and lived through it. Me, I have a little morning sickness in the first trimester. It’s been that way with the first two, and so far I’m sticking to that pattern with the next. Granted, the mild morning sickness often extends all day, and it goes along with that fatigued first-trimester feeling. Still, it’s not really that bad. But when I am nauseated, however mildly (I hardly ever actually throw up), I cease to function. Same as above. I do what I must and complain about it while I’m moving.
Aside from pregnancy symptoms and the occasional headache, the only recurring physical ailment I have is muscle tension in my neck and shoulders. It usually comes from sitting in a non-ergonomic way while writing on my laptop, but sometimes I’ll wake up with a painfully tight neck and shoulder for no reason I can figure. When that happens, I cease to function. I can’t concentrate. I survive. I do nothing productive. I whine until Joe gives me neck rubs and shoulder rubs. And I wait until the ibuprofen works or until I can sleep it off before I start thinking about any sort of normal activity.
Yep, that’s me. Superwoman.
I don’t like my method of dealing with this little annoying physical pains and whatnot. I like being productive and having a clean house, a good-smelling kitchen, a weeded garden, folded laundry, bathed and fed babies, and a couple of clever articles written at the end of the day. Like it? I love it. I live for it. I strive for it. I tweak my life continually to try to get to the point where I can reach those goals regularly.
And then I get a headache…
Now, being pregnant again, I am staring at a choice I don’t want to examine. I can treat this entire pregnancy as a mild sickness and drag myself through it, unproductive, unhappy, and on survival mode. Baby #3 can be welcomed into a home that has the same unfinished projects and unwritten books that welcomed Baby #2. And I know that the world won’t end if that’s what I do. Baby #2 is doing just fine, and so am I and Baby #1, and Husband, for that matter. We can make it on survival mode; we just miss out on some peace and sanity and simplicity that I crave. Survival mode ends up complicating things, because I do nothing beyond the absolute necessity of keeping soul in body and body in house. Piles get bigger. Projects get more intimidating. Book proposals get fuzzier in the waiting.
My other option, the one I know I should take but that my whole fleshy self shudders to think of, is the IGNORE THE PAIN option. I can treat the unpleasant symptoms of this pregnancy as the mild irritants they are and put them in their proper place: deal with them as is wise, and then continue on with my normal routine. I can make choices, set priorities, even take naps when I need to, but I can do so while being self-disciplined and being in control rather than in survival mode. I can remove the piles and find places for things. I can finish some projects before I get to the Beached Whale portion of this pregnancy. I can write instead of laying around on the couch wishing I felt better.