25 Weeks Pregnant

25 weeks pregnant and babe is somewhere around the size of a papaya.  My uterus is the size of a soccer ball. And my body is feeling it. Is it okay for loss moms and women who’ve struggled conceiving to complain about aspects of pregnancy? Yes! 

This is something I’ve been grappling with lately as I’m getting closer to the third trimester and starting to regularly experience discomfort in my body. 

Am I thrilled to have a healthy baby kicking and growing inside of me? Obviously. But I know a lot of people who’ve struggled on their journey to motherhood feel guilty for complaining about the “normal” yet difficult things related to pregnancy. 

For me it’s been SI joint pain in my pelvis that gets inflamed by the end of the day and exacerbates my lower back pain. I also have nerve damage in my upper glutes (yes, my butt!) from the 90 or so progesterone in oil injections Hunter gave me throughout our two IVF cycles. I have trouble getting good sleep at night because of hip pain while sleeping on my side. I also have this super weird chronic condition called Burning Mouth Syndrome (my lips burn when I eat or drink certain foods and are constantly dry) as a result of a medication I took during our last embryo transfer. I can’t go on my daily walks right now because it’s so hot and humid outside and I overheat easily because my heart is pumping 2x it’s normal blood volume. 

I think it’s hard for bereaved parents because we’ve experienced one of the worst possible things that can happen and we’re just so grateful to be pregnant again that it makes all the normal difficulties of pregnancy seem trivial, or like we shouldn’t complain about them because we “know better.” 

But pregnancy is hard, especially after your body has given birth before. My body is much different than it was during my first pregnancy with Ellis; it’s recovered from a c-section, gained and lost 20 or so pounds, and gone through two rounds of IVF. 

I’ve noticed that when people ask me how I’m doing and I vent about a physical symptom, I immediately follow it up with, “But I’m grateful for the aches and pains.” I’ve realized I don’t need to diminish the real discomfort I’m experiencing or feel guilty about voicing it. There is room for both my gratitude and frustrations—they don’t cancel each other out.