Relaxin, Tripin’, Worryin’
All this relaxin in my body, and I still suck at yoga. (I know, I know, yoga is an individual experience not a stretching competition but I am still not able to do poses that others seems to do with relative ease.) I thought, erroneously, that relaxin would allow me to do all sorts of fun poses or, at the very least, touch my toes. Instead, all I do is trip over my own feet and fall down on the sidewalk in front of polite Indian engineering students who don’t quite know what do with an 8-month pregnant lady sprawled out on the sidewalk in front of them who can’t get up gracefully on her own. My ankles, it seems, are very loose; my pelvis and hips, not so much.
The good news: I have found the most comfortable bra ever. I bought one and I am now going to order at least three more, one in a larger size for when my milk comes in. Behold the glory of the the Medela soft-cup nursing/maternity bra. (Free shipping if you order more than $49 on-line at JCPenney.com; also a great-big thanks to Wendy at G&K’s Mom for pointing me here for bras!)
On a very different, less optimistic note, I find that sorting through baby stuff makes me very fearful that something will still go wrong. There is nothing to indicate this, but all this baby stuff in my house makes the physical reality of he-beastie more real and therefore my anxiety over a future loss more pronounced. I am trying not to think this way, or to judge myself for thinking this way, but I still have a hard time believing that everything is going to be okay. Many first-time mothers describe having a hard time connecting the abstract reality of pregnancy with the concrete reality of an actual baby. When that abstract has emotionally crushed you before — twice in 9 months, even — I think it makes the concrete reality even more difficult to contend with.
That being said, I really wish that my abstract baby would stop kicking me in the cervix.