“So here I am in bed feeling sluggish even after 14 hours of sleep, with the biggest appetite for anything, my stomach bugging me, my moods going low most of the time, only my thoughts to keep me company, and despite all that I harbor a strong urge to make this forced downtime productive. Oh, the things I could do, want to do, with the remaining 3 months at my disposal! I would happily know where to begin. But this pregnancy just becomes so dragging. I love you baby, but mommy is really blasé.“— Written on my journal a few months before I gave birth last September.
Being pregnant should be a hectic period: A period when there would be numerous visits from friends and relatives (most especially if it’s a first-time pregnancy), a lot of shopping for maternity and cute little clothes, unlimited access to all gastronomical desires, frequent trips to the ob-gyne and sonologist, and a lot of never-heard yoga sessions that make labor a piece of cake (nothing but a placebo effect?). But of course, even as hectic as it should be, I was actually given so much time to breathe- so much to the point of boredom, that my body never longed enough to feel that it needed another break or some form of quiet respite, that all I wanted was to utilize my brain and consume my well-kept energy. It sure felt like it was the longest 9 months ever and all I was praying for was to have a miracle cure for boredom or a magic way to speed things up.
There I was, holding a chunk of time I could truly call my own, when in time of rest I truly rested, but whenever I wake up, I could only hope to feel delighted rather than bored. And yes, oh yes, having my miracle baby bump should give me pleasure.It did, yet, I fought it. I knew that the whole journey should have given me pleasure despite my upset stomach, sudden mood swings, over-sleeping and my wandering through my cluttered and bored mind. However, boredom won me over. I stared thoughtlessly at the wall, thinking what else I could do. Surprisingly, boredom was a sure-fire hit to forget nausea and vomiting. More effective than any doctor’s advice, mind you. Boredom took its toll, at its finest.
I didn’t know what to do back then. I read all the books available, trying to make my pregnancy a period to be as hectic as it should be. But I guess despite the boredom and me ranting about it, it should have come to me that boredom is part of it all. Pregnancy blahs is just as common as all the mood swings that take place during gestation. Although it’s perfectly normal to feel that way. I get tired of being pregnant during the third trimester. What’s exciting and new during the first few weeks and months of pregnancy can become pretty tedious by the sixth or seventh month. Besides, there’s nothing particularly thrilling about having to roll out of bed sideways, grunt every time I stand up, and pee a gazillion times a day. Sure, I always get offered a seat on the train, and be given with sky-high tolerance, but what about the numerous times when I had heartburn? It’s enough to wipe the rosy glow from even the most excited mom-to-be.
My pregnancy ennui was so bad, I was forcing my husband to let me go back to work. I insisted that boredom becomes a persistent blues, I’d rather hurt myself at work than hurt myself in boredom. Mind you, everything that a pregnant woman could have possibly done, I’d done. But nothing satiated me.
Until I gave birth last September to a beautiful and very healthy baby girl. That was the only time I realized that if I forced my way out and went back to work, I might have put my daughter’s health at risk (this is just in my case). I might have gotten less rest than what I should really have, slipped my way through or fallen from a stair. So I guess, to endure boredom was the best thing that I ever did during my pregnancy. Also now that I am taking care of a newborn, now that I realize that I should have weathered all the annoyances during that time and I should have enjoyed the last few weeks of pre-baby freedom. All the long rest I complained about before, now I am dying to have. Now that time to myself becomes a precious commodity.
So now I know: Boredom, together with everything that goes with it, is a pleasure that next time I get pregnant, will start enjoying guiltlessly.
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