I couldn't help but notice the excruciating hip pain I've been experiencing during the night. I noticed it mainly because my body makes sure I'm awake for it. God forbid I should sleep through any really interesting pain.
I explained the hip pain to my doctor who responded, typically, "That happens often in pregnancy." My doctor responds this way to most issues I raise with her (and you may not believe this, but I am not a problem patient; I do my reading, and only bring up a concern on the rare occasions I haven't found the answer myself). I could say, for example, "Yesterday while I was typing, three of my fingers fell off." And she would respond, "That happens often in pregnancy," and would most likely prescribe Tylenol. They (the "They" assigned to all Very Important Decisions) have determined Tylenol to be the one medication unlikely to cause instant death to a pregnant woman, so doctors like to dispense it liberally. "Take Tylenol," sounds better than "Just deal with it," particularly when addressing concerns like missing limbs.
She had an actual explanation for the hip thing though: my joints are loosening to allow my pelvis to widen so I can accomodate my growing baby. Now, that's pretty cool, I admit. What the human body just automatically knows to do without my having to read it on babycenter.com first is pretty amazing. However, a reason is not a solution to the problem. Agreeing that this is, indeed, a very wise course of action for my body to take does not make it any less painful in the middle of the night.
In addition, the shifting and growing that is going on has managed to land everything on my bladder. Now, I am the kind of person who already had to stop at every rest stop on a road trip "just in case." I have a terror of being too far from a bathroom, something that has always been inate in my makeup but was made worse by a situation in Costa Rica on my honeymoon involving no outdoor toilets, a lot of mud, and poor balance. Anyway. Suffice it to say that my life has now become absolutely consumed by bathroom locations. I have to know where the closest toilet is at all times, because I never know when this darling little girl will decide to start using my bladder as a trampoline. I realize there is very little to do in there, what with no TV or ipods (we run a tight, boarding-school-like ship in this here womb), but her new-found hobby has become increasingly stressful for me. I spend most of my time either going to the bathroom or thinking I very urgently need to go to the bathroom.
The thing is though, it doesn't matter if you have babies or don't have babies, it will all fall apart eventually anyway. "Use it or lose it" and "Use it and lose it" are nature's mottos when it comes to women. If you have a baby, chances are good that later in life, due to all this stretching and pulling and realigning of parts, you will sneeze one day and your uterus will fall out, causing you much embarrassment at the public pool. However if you don't have a baby, They say you have a higher liklihood of getting breast cancer. I managed to beat all the odds: I am having a baby, but not until the age of 35, which means my uterus will fall out AND I am more likely to get breast cancer.
The rules extend further than baby-making parts. For example if you don't exercise, you'll have a heart attack and die. If you do exercise, your hips, back, knees, feet, legs and torso will have to be replaced later in life. My mom has to have reconstructive knee surgery. She was stupid enough to be really healthy when she was younger, and ran marathons and irresponsible things like that. So now she must pay the price by slowly (and painfully) replacing each of her body parts with prosthetics. She is extremely creeped out by this, but I think it'll be cool to have the Bionic Woman for a mother. When she leaps onto rooftops I will stand on the ground with my own busted and useless knees, thinking of the day I, too, will become part Terminator, and encouraging her by making the requisite "DA-na-na-na-na," Bionic Woman sound. That's only if they let her through security at the airport though because apparently prosthetic knees can sometimes be mistaken for weapons of mass destruction. But then, so can a tube of toothpaste so you might as well have bionic knees.
What is my point? I don't really have one. Except to say that one way or another, everything will fall out or off eventually so you might as well just do whatever you want, whether it's birthing babies, running marathons or peeing your pants at work because your baby decided to solute Obama's acceptance speech with a firm fist to the bladder.
I have to go to the bathroom.
