As I sit here writing, I’m 39 weeks pregnant and feeling rather exhausted. These are the final weeks (or even days) of pregnancy, and all I want to do is hibernate underneath my duvet with my book and a huge bar of Fruit & Nut.
Sleep is evading me for large chunks of the night now. In-between getting up to go to the toilet, baby kicks and general mind-wandering, I find myself tossing and turning to find that elusive comfortable position. Copious amounts of pillows are my friends… as are daytime naps.
The final few weeks of pregnancy are lonely. I remember this part well from both Busby and H-Bear’s pregnancies. And, to be honest, most of the loneliness is self-inflicted. I have purposely isolated myself; I don’t want to go too far from home in case my waters break (H-Bear arrived 6 minutes after my waters broke!) and, as much as I’d like to, I don’t have the energy to make much conversation with friends. The 3 mile school run is about all I’m up to (and even that isn’t daily anymore) and I feel really rather boring because of it!
I think there’s also an aspect of wanting to be alone. To squirrel oneself away. Wanting to appreciate every last kick, especially as I know this is the final time I’ll be pregnant. Wanting to enjoy the peace and quiet before this wonderful, but all-consuming and demanding new life arrives. Wanting to nest and clean, but also being able to sit and just ‘be’ feels good.
It’s preparation for the fourth trimester.
But even though it’s self-inflicted isolation, it’s still lonely. With the intense hormones whizzing around your body, preparing it for birth, turning you into a slightly irrational person (I cried the other day because the wheelie bin was full and I wanted to empty the hoover…). And then the added sleep deprivation.
The desire to ‘be back to normal’, so you can take part in life again. To be able to walk properly; without becoming overwhelmingly exhausted… or needing to pee! I miss seeing my friends and being awake enough to communicate. I miss being able to do school pick ups every day and see my children’s faces when they spot me in the playground.
It’s not forever. This too shall pass. And then I know full well that I’ll miss the peace, I’ll miss the baby squirming, and I’ll miss my bump. But right now, life feels a little bit like living in an intense, limbo-esque, lonely cocoon.