I came up with the idea for this post way back at the beginning of the year. And had I written it then, it would read very differently. The premise wouldn’t really have changed: complaining is like any other muscle, if you don’t exercise it, it grows weak. But back then, I was pretty good about not complaining. About appreciating the good things in my life and leaving it at that. I was going to talk about how after a bit of initial effort (since habits are hard to break), it’s pretty easy to neglect that particular muscle. And, obviously, this makes being generally happy a lot easier.

Pregnancy has changed that a bit. I don’t disagree with any of those points. But I complain ALL THE TIME now. I try not to. Which really just means that most people don’t hear about it and my husband never gets a break. My intentions are good. I still have all the things in the world to be grateful for and appreciative of and, in many ways, expecting a baby has put many of those things in the spotlight.

So yeah…plenty of good things (and I, obviously, didn’t include all of them). But it’s definitely hard to focus on those things with an irksome, persistent pain in my middle to upper back on the left side. My wonderful, loving, supportive husband can only do so much to help me get to sleep with a myriad of physical discomforts keeping me up when I have a hard time shutting off in the best of times. Delicious food only goes so far when eating is immediately followed by heartburn. The endorphins from exercise have a mitigated effect when my baby is pushing down on my pelvis with grimace-inducing force.

But I refuse to let pregnancy get the better of me. Complaining is a muscle. And it’s my choice whether or not to exercise it. Letting that particular one atrophy is clearly a good idea. And it feels like now, more than ever, is a great time to remember that and act on it. In just a few more weeks, everything will change in ways I can’t appreciate until the baby is actually born and in our lives. And that will bring a new world of joys and frustrations. The weaker my complaining muscle is, the better able I’ll be to delight in my new life as a mother.