I figured it was time for a diary entry with a *slightly* more positive spin. Yes, I still hate being pregnant. Even if I wanted 4 kids - which I kind of do - I don’t think I’d be able to go through this again. With that being said, I gave myself a real kick in the ass about a month ago, because my attitude was appalling. I’d stopped doing all the things that improve my mental health (meditation, alone time, affirmations, etc) and was behaving like a real Karen. Not in public because I’m not unhinged, but definitely at home with my poor, sweet husband. I was also super exhausted from living at altitude for 2 months, which meant I had very few resources to deal with my own shit. 

When we got back to LA, I decided to take a long hard look at myself. I realized that I was tired of carrying around a dark cloud and it was time to burn that negativity off. Sure, things felt hard, but that’s life. I decided to get a grip and start focusing on all the positives, instead of the things I was lacking (margaritas and a waist). All we can control in life is our attitude, our emotions, and our responses, so that’s what I decided to change. I’ve gotta say, I’ve been doing a damn good job and I feel SO much better. 

Firstly, I’ve been meditating every day. I spend 10 minutes visualizing all the good in my life, and focusing on gratitude and love. I breathe deeply, tune out the noise, and imagine my body filling with light. If you’ve never tried it, I beg you to. It’s WILD what it can do for your mind. Next, I started listing all the things I’m grateful for throughout the day. I’ll randomly speak them out loud and encourage my kids to do it with me. Immediate mood booster. I also decided to stop weighing myself. I was getting obsessed with the number on the scale, and it really made me feel awful. No matter how many times I told myself it was normal and that I was healthy, I just couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort. After I quit stepping on that dumb little thing, I was so pissed at myself for not doing it sooner. I stopped caring so much about my chafing thighs and swollen face. Who tf was I trying to look ‘perfect’ for anyway? My husband loves me, my kids love me, my friends don’t care about how much weight I gain. Was it for strangers on the internet? Cause I’m pretty sure people like it when they see a normal, growing, pregnant body. I know I do. Lastly, I bought myself some new clothes in bigger sizes. Not sure what I was trying to prove squeezing into my non-maternity leggings but they’ve officially been retired. My OB told me that the body just seems to have a set point and unless you go crazy and gain 100lbs, there’s not much you can do to change it. Since she’s an expert, I’ve decided to trust her and embrace my above average weight gain. I’ve also been embracing cheesecake since I might as well enjoy myself. 

As far as the actual child in my stomach goes, he seems happy as a clam. He is by far my most active baby and performs acrobatics all day and night. I’m really curious to see what kind of personality he’ll have (judging by his antics in utero I’m guessing he’s the swing from the rafters type). I’m dreading the sleep deprivation that comes with a newborn, although I suppose it’s not much worse than trying to sleep whilst pregnant. I pee at least 3 times a night, am startled awake by the UFC training sessions that go on in my belly, and bolt upright a few times, panicked that I’ve deprived my kid of oxygen by rolling onto my back. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I get more deep sleep between night feeds than I do at the end of pregnancy. Only time (and my oura ring) will tell, I guess. 

One of the nice things about doing this a few times is the sense of calm that comes with experience. I know the postpartum period is going to suck for a while. I know breastfeeding is painful for me. I know I’ll feel guilty that I’m not giving enough time and energy to my other kids. I also know that it passes and I’ll eventually get back to feeling like myself again. I know that I can stop breastfeeding whenever the hell I want. I’m certain that my kids know they’re loved and adored, and that’s the most important thing. The days and nights crawl by so slowly at first, then you blink and they’re doing things all by themselves and you’re willing time to stop. It’s all just a series of phases that combine to equal the most unbelievably gratifying experience.

I’m writing this as someone who isn’t quite in the thick of the rough stuff. It’s damn near impossible to meditate when you’re puking nonstop, or to get some alone time when there’s a baby chomping on your nip. I’m sure I’ll have a few more wretched moments over the next year. When they happen, I’ll try to remind myself that the discomfort is brief in the scheme of things, and if I can find a way back to the tools that I know work, I’ll get through it. 

C x