The Aches and Pains of Being Pregnant at Age 46

I couldn’t believe it when a shot of pain immobilized my left hip while walking slowly though Central Park this evening.  We had just had a picnic and were headed to the carousel when the area where the leg and torso meet flared up with a strong dose of acute, nerve-wracking, albeit only seconds-lasting pain. That sentence is weird. First of all, picnicking in late November is not a normal event for the Northern Hemisphere. New York has been experiencing a ridiculously mild fall. It’s so nice out you can sit on the ground and wear balmy clothes.  Second of all. Where my leg and torso meet is an area of my body I can no longer ascertain, let alone locate.  The belly is hanging over, but I can feel the pain and numbness.  What is going on? I thought the itching was the worst part of the pregnancy. Now I am unable to walk? Well, I can walk, but every few steps I let out a gasp. It’s a shot of pain that isn’t fun.  Dad says now I should understand how extra weight can throw you off balance. My daughter is getting frustrated with me. I can’t do much anymore. I can’t sit on the floor. Now I can’t walk. O.K, I can walk. I am exaggerating. But this nonsense of taking a few steps followed by adrenaline type pain is taking the fun out of going anywhere at all in this gorgeous weather. Gosh, I hope it rains so I can just sit still. That’s the forecast for Thanksgiving Day, thank goodness. I plan to sit around in the morning watching the Macy’s Day Parade, followed by football, followed by a car-driven arrival at our friends’ house where I will sit and (hopefully) be waited on….my very advanced pregnancy ruling the day. I can do what I want and have everyone do it for me.  Coupled with this last-minute decision by my legs and skeletal system to go caput on me, I have every excuse in the world to be and act queen-like. Boy, do I have a lot to tell my doctor tomorrow. Itching and crippled up is what I am.  Maybe my 46-year old body is revolting against the condition I put it in. Yet, plenty of women in yesteryear were conceiving and giving birth well into their late forties because there was no such thing as protection. Also, don’t forget, a woman’s main role was to be a broodmare, such that from puberty until menopause, she was either non-stop conceiving a baby, giving birth to a baby, or nursing a baby. No, it’s not my age, I am not convinced. It’s the 40 pounds I’ve packed on and my lack of exercise that have exacerbated my new hip joint problem.  Well, it’s the age a little, don’t you think? Now that I have written two days in a row about my physical shortcomings, I can honestly admit that being pregnant is not all that easy. It’s not all that hard, either.  I am not complaining, merely stating what’s going on with me in my 37 and a half weeks completed.  I still consider myself fortunate to have had such a virtually problem-free pregnancy at age 46.  I am enjoying it and hope I go all the way to 40!