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It’s Not Always Puppies And Rainbows

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I hear that question so often.

How are you feeling?

It’s met time after time with a nonchalant I’m okay and a fake smile dancing across my face.

I don’t tell them the truth.

I don’t tell them that I am miserable.

I am uncomfortable, swollen, and in pain.

I don’t tell them that the faintest smells make my stomach turn.

That the foods I used to love now make me completely ill.

I don’t tell them that it hurts to move.

Or breathe.

Or that the sciatica is a constant drum, beating against my insides, sending pulsating jolts of pain through my back, hips, and legs.

I have no energy and the slightest movement leaves me falling short of breath.

I don’t explain that I can barely lift my kids.

Or that I can barely walk down a flight of stairs without having to take a break.

Or that I’m supposed to be on modified bed rest, but can’t because of my little ones.

I don’t tell them that I can’t sit, or stand, or walk, or sleep.

That every movement or position is more painful and uncomfortable than the last one.

Instead I keep that inside. Locked up tight, not to be expressed.

I know that what I’m going through is normal. Expected.

I am so incredibly grateful for the fact that I am able to go through this again.

I am thankful for this gift and so fortunate to travel through this journey.

So instead of unloading the complaints, I paint that smile on my face.

I force myself through songs and dances, games and demands.

I keep up the energy as best I possibly can.

I stay quiet about the aches and pains, sufferings and woes.

I focus on the end result.

And remind myself that this is all so very worth it.

I see myself holding my Peanut in a few short weeks.

And thank God that I can go through this again.

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