Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Spilling my whine

The first real "belly shot" of my pregnancy at 36 weeks. Caleb is admonishing me.

I have the distinct displeasure of being 36 weeks pregnant at the pinnacle of the hottest time of the hottest season here in Western Kenya.  I can't sit in a chair (with this extra 35 pounds weighing down on my ass) without a pool of sweat forming on my seat and my skirt clinging to my tush like saran wrap on a casserole dish.  

But I can't complain. 

That's what I say each time someone asks me, with sympathy in their voice, how I am handling these last stages of pregnancy: "I can't complain."  (Little do they know I probably complain twice as much to my poor husband since I "can't complain" to them.  He's a lucky guy, right?)

I can't complain because I've been pretty lucky.  I'm one of those horrible women who gains pretty much all of their pregnancy weight in the belly.  I really never threw up in my first tri-mester.  I don't have high blood pressure or gestational diabetes.  I've never had to be on bed rest.  Hell, I did a 5 hour hike in my seventh month. Relative to most, it hasn't been that difficult.

Plus, I'm surrounded by women who have had miserable pregnancies.  My sister threw up, every day.  For NINE months.  My sister-in-law did the same.  I think she was on some kind of medication they give to chemo patients.  So, I can't complain. 

Other friends struggle to even conceive in the first place.  They look at swollen bellies with jealousy and longing.  So I can't complain. 

And living where we do, where access to pre-natal care is not a given, I have to consider myself lucky. Should something go wrong, I'd be able to get the medical attention I need.  So. again,  I can't complain. 

And yet, and yet...I sorely want to exercise my pregnancy prerogative and do just that - complain. Complain about my back and my exhaustion.  About the heat and my swollen feet. About the fact that my husband can't pamper me the way I'd like because his work is too demanding.  About my 3 year old who insists on being carried up the stairs.  About my unborn baby who is doing bench presses on my diaphram and forcing my dinner half way back up my esophegas.  

And I'd like some sympathy.  

But I can't complain.  

Can I complain about that?


  1. Kimmy, Kimmy, Kimmy - complain all you want. It will be the one time when people will understand. We're listening -:)

  2. don't you have anything better to complain about?

  3. You are funny and sweet and so, so pregnant, so complain away! much love

  4. As long as you do it so eloquently, feel free to complain all you want! Much love and sympathy from Leah, Nadav, Eli, and Nana!

  5. Wow, I refuse to carry Vicky up the stairs, and I'm nowhere near as pregnant as you. (Being not pregnant at all, that is. Because I would never do that again. In fact, I have nightmares about it.) Set some limits, Love. Complain all you like to me, you could never possibly come close to how much I complained when I was pregnant... when I was conscious, that is, and not digesting my own body.

  6. Oh yes, I know what you mean. I am so blessed in so many ways and I'm SO grateful for this very much wanted pregnancy.

    BUT, I had a pretty rough 1st trimester, which I did not complain about (amid so many trying to conceive, it seemed insensitive), except to a few close friends. I did wish I could have, openly :)

    And OMG, 4 more weeks!!!

  7. Kimmy - Just another thought about this post. Your Grandpa Sid used to think that a pregnant woman was just about the most beautiful thing in the world. Looking at your picture confirmed that sentiment for me.

  8. Complain away, girl. Everything you say is funny on here, so it will just be more entertainment for us, and cathartic for you:)

  9. Hiiii! (waving)

    We spent four months in Nairobi after being evacuated out of Somaliland/Djibouti following 9/11. It was gorgeous weather when we were there. It was ten years ago, but I still have friends from that time period.

    I hope your delivery goes really really well.

    And I really miss ugali (is that what it's called?) and sukuma weke - no idea how that's spelled.

    1. Hi Jennie!
      Sounds like quite the adventure and - yes - Nairobi has gorgeous whether, which I'm relishing in now having just arrived from Kisumu. I used to always acuse people who claimed to like ugali of lying, but I think with the right meat stew it's just as good as any staple. Maybe I'll even miss it one of these days.... Thanks for stopping by my blog!

  10. You sure can, Kim. Deb used to refer to this as the "beached whale" stage!