#noglow

As I sit here attempting to gulp down my ascorbic-acid-sweetened electrolyte drink, I feel the need to write this out.

Two weeks ago, I had a breakthrough on my nausea and energy levels. My second trimester came in like a bad latte at 5am; while, not the glorious delicacy I dreamt of, it was, without a doubt, sufficient and well-appreciated. My first trimester was hellish at best. Falling pregnant so quickly after our miscarriage, while I know a lot of people would call it a blessing, for me it was kind of a nightmare. It had been less than four weeks from the loss of AL when I got the positive pregnancy test and I definitely wasn’t ready for it.

In the weeks after the loss, I remember feeling a deep need to be pregnant. I felt unfulfilled and unfinished after the miscarriage and really wanted that void to be filled. However, I feel I need to clarify that I didn’t want to be pregnant again, I wanted to be pregnant still. I felt, and still feel, like something was stolen that should be there.

I was still in profound mourning when I felt that unmistakable fatigue. I pulled out one of those cheap, purple Walmart pregnancy tests and, there it was - a faint little purple line. I felt everything and nothing all at once. It was like my system completely overloaded and just shut down. I was reading my journal entry from that night…

"I really felt like today was turning out to be a good day. Is it a good day still?"

I waited to accept the test’s results as reality until I spoke with a a doctor. Part of me kind of hoped it was just leftover HCG from the previous pregnancy, but I had taken a test since that was negative, so I knew better. Sure enough, the pregnancy was confirmed. Not to mention, the vomiting that started in my 4th week was evidence enough. And it really just got worse. By week 6, I couldn’t even hold down water. I had to start a steady diet of Reglan and Pedialyte just to stay remotely hydrated. For three months, I was vomiting, weak, and emotionally exhausted. If I wasn’t bawling, I was apathetic at best. Any emotional reserve I had was spent feeling guilty about regretting the pregnancy, or the fact that I couldn’t even do a load of laundry without passing out on the floor. I felt like I failed AL, I felt like I was failing my husband and home, and on top of it, I felt like I was failing the kid currently taking up residence in my womb by almost wishing it wasn’t even there.

I didn’t want a new baby, I wanted our first baby. I wanted AL. I wanted what was to not be and I wanted it desperately. To have a new baby growing inside of me felt blasphemous. It shouldn’t be there. AL should be there still. It all felt wrong and sometimes, it still does.

Anyhow, after all that gut-honest confession, I will say this - it has been a process and it *really* is getting better. If you ask me if I’m excited, I’ll respond with a very unconvincing, “Yeah. Ya know… yeah.” And it’s not because I’m not excited, it’s just that my excitement is completely intermingled with everything else and most of the time, I’m just trying to eat the bare minimum of my calorie intake for the day because, although the vomiting has reduced significantly, I still have no appetite.

Most mommies I know had wonderful pregnancies. I get slammed with soft, sweet, reminiscent eyes looking upwards to blessed memories and then, with a sigh comes, “I looooved being pregnant!… I can’t wait to be pregnant again!… Those were the best months of my life!” And all I can do is roll my eyes secretly wish your child pees in your hair today. We haven’t even gotten to take any cute bump pictures because frankly, I don’t have one. I have lost at least 10 pounds since the beginning of this pregnancy and am having a LOT of trouble gaining any weight back. I have completely reverted to a 5-year-old’s diet on top of it. I only ever want mac-n-cheese, broccoli, carrots, fruit, coffee, and chocolate milk. So, that’s weird.

Ryan and I got to go away for the weekend up to the cascades and it really was wonderful. Due to the sickness and fatigue, we have been on maybe one date in the last three months. It was great to just get out into nature and hang out with each other. Spouses take on many roles you never think of when you get married. Of course, they are your friend and your lover, but I never really thought of Ryan being, essentially, my nurse and maid. I never fantasized about him cleaning out my puke bucket at 3am, or forcing me to go on a short walk everyday to keep my strength up (for which I wanted to repay him by puking on his shoes at the time). Pregnancy, if anything, has been extremely sobering as to how reliant I can be, and I think that has been good for me.

Alls to say, I am coming to the place where I am accepting that the next 6 months of my life may just be filled with rest since making a baby has been particularly hard on my body. I always figured I’d be someone who wore pregnancy well, but that is not the case. To you moms who did a half marathon 5 months along - go you. To you pregos who do crossift - kudos. But that does not appear to be my pregnancy journey, as 20 minutes on the eliptical machine pretty much wears me out for the day (or two, let’s be honest). I’m usually a pretty “pull up your boot straps” type of person, but most days, I don’t even know where they are, nor do I have the motivation to look for them.

So, there is my long way of saying how much I really hate being pregnant. I am excited to have a baby, but being pregnant really sucks. My body feels more foreign everyday and it’s a very strange reality - knowing someone the size of an orange has completely taken over all my bodily functions. I have mad acne, my hair is falling out, I have the congestion of a sick pug, and my abdomen feels like a clown car. And in the midst of al this weird awfulness, a life is being nurtured. Ahhh, but that is the weird beauty of it all I suppose.

Thanks for listening. I hope you can’t relate to my pregnancy woes, but if you can,