January 14th 2013. I'm nine weeks pregnant. I'm propping myself on a pillow and writing this pretty little post because I want to vent about this happy thing we call the First Trimester. And I'm sure there are a few women out there who would be interested in what the first trimester can be like.
I don't understand why this necessary. I'm making a baby. It should be a wonderful thing. A beautiful thing. And it is. And I'm thrilled. But I feel like hell. Is that part really necessary?
Why does my family not understand that they should leave me alone in my dark bedroom in the clothes that I have been wearing for 4 days straight, so that I can lie as still as possible. They seem to expect me to get up, make breakfast, run the household and pretend that I am something similar to the mother/wife that I was 9 weeks ago.
But I'm not. I am simply a shuffling organism of nausea, emotion and exhaustion. These are the only things I'm seeming to process. And apparently there's a baby inside me.
When I was pregnant with Lydia, my first child, I thought all women were grossly exaggerating the difficulties of pregnancy. I felt great up until the 9th month.
In fact, I didn't even suspect I was pregnant until I was 8 weeks along. I had been trying to get pregnant for 2 years and had recently taken a break from my fertility treatments to go on a Caribbean vacation with Shane. My periods were very irregular due to all the hormonal changes. A couple months after the vacation, I was stepping out of the shower and Shane gasped. "Natalie! What's going on with your boobs?!" I had noticed it too. They were huge. And heavy. Within about .235 seconds it dawned on me that I might be pregnant. I didn't want to get Shane's hopes up, so I dismissed it to him as being a side effect of getting off the fertility pills. I headed to the doctor on my lunch break and he confirmed I was pregnant.
It was one of the happiest moments of my life. The rest of my pregnancy I rode a merry roller coaster of thicker hair, glowing skin and just bit of tiredness. No big deal. I just closed my office door at work at took a little rest.
With Collin and this baby, I figured out I was pregnant much earlier and far differently. Suddenly I felt terrible. I couldn't stand the smell of anything. I found myself retching at the sight and smell of almost any food. I started crying at commercials and when the clothes weren't all the way dry in the dryer.
I took a test and was overjoyed at the outcome.
This baby I am carrying took a year to conceive. I cannot express how joyous the news is.
I cannot express how miserable I am right now.
From the moment I open my eyes from my almost sleepless night, I'm horribly nauseous. I reach over to my side table and pull the bag of Cheerios over and choke down a handful. This makes it possible to get out of bed.
I shuffle to the bathroom to pee. I've peed 5 times in the night already. I put on a bra. That is the only change to the clothes I will make. I sleep in yoga pants, a tee shirt and a hoodie. I wear the same thing all day and will collapse back into bed with them on tonight. I will change into new yoga pants, shirt and hoodie whenever I get around to showering. Why did I use to think my shampoo smelled good. It's wretched.
My kids run around me, calling for breakfast and I move around in a pathetic attempt to be normal. I make toast with jam and smoothies. Maybe Cream of Wheat. Anything else make me what to barf. The other day Collin begged for a fried egg and I puked into the sink as soon as I smelled it sizzling.
How can something the size of a grape make me feel like this?
After the herculean effort of getting Lydia to school, Collin and I return to my bed in our pajamas and I lay there in a fetal position while he plays on my phone for an hour or so while I find the will to get up. Every part of me is sick. My head hurts. I feel like I could sleep forever. I rack my brain for something that would make me feel better, but all I want to do is hibernate for 3 months.
Of course there is no medication I can take as long as I am able to keep some food down. My doctor repeats the same advice to stick to the BRAT diet in small meals and to try a little ginger in my water. "Yes. Thank you doctor." I want to punch her in the face.
I had to go to the store yesterday or else dig into my food storage. I went to pull on my jeans that fit at Christmas. They wouldn't button.
I threw them in the garbage in a flurry of tears.
Shane is out of town for over two weeks on business. I try to remember he can't help business trips. But then I remember that he's also off to the Detroit car show for his yearly guys trip and I start getting angry. Not normal angry. Like, scary shaking a bit angry like when I had that disturbing reaction to birth control.
It only lasts about 20 seconds and I back to just plain nauseous and regular crying.
Maybe it's good he's not here. He tries to comfort me with hugs and his normally wonderful smell gags me. And it reminds me that he may want sex. Which gags me.
Of course, it's too early to tell anyone I'm pregnant and call for help. And, of course, I live no where near family anyway.
I think happy(ish) thoughts.
"This nausea means the baby is doing well."
"I may be a terrible mother now, but the kids will survive. And I'm making them a sibling!"
"I'm sure the prenatal pills will make up for the fact I'm only eating Cheerios and white toast."
"Only another month of this, maybe." (Sob)
"Who cares if I'm already gaining weight even though I'm barely able to eat" (WAIL!)
Somehow I go about my day. I have to avoid watching the news to keep from hysterically bawling, which tends to frighten my 3 year old. Speaking of Collin, WHY DID HE HAVE TO STOP NAPPING NOW???? (Deep breaths, keep it together Natalie.) Somehow I make lunch. Canned soup. I hold my nose in my sleeve to stand the stench. I'm able to do enough laundry that we have clean socks and underwear. I ignore all other non essential household duties.
That is until about 7:00 pm.
At 7, every night, suddenly I feel ok. The nausea is gone as is the exhaustion. Suddenly I go into a whirlwind of trying to catch up on everything I was unable to get to during the day. I do homework with Lydia and play with the kids. I give them a bath. While they are getting jammies on I run to the kitchen and clean like a mad women. I put the kids to bed with stories and lots of hugs and tickles.
I run around the house like a mad woman, trying to do everything I can until....
The exhaustion envelopes me and I'm so tired I am barely able to pull myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth before I collapse into bed. I free myself from my bra, and I start yet another fitful night sleep.
I awake to horrible nausea and it all begins again.
I love the quote "Pregnancy. The happiest reason to feel like crap."
I'm so thrilled to be pregnant.
But I am also so completely and utterly miserable.
Update- It's March 1st now. I'm 16 weeks along. I feel great! I'm pretty tired but I'm not sick and I'm just so happy to be carrying this little baby. Hum. Could it really have been all that bad in my first trimester? :)