Oh friends. Where do I begin? My brain no longer works, my body is overcome with exhaustion, and just when I have 2-3 good “almost” nausea-free days (while still on the Zofran, mind you), the nausea comes back and punches me in the face and I find myself lying on the floor of my office, trying to regain the will to go vertical so I can finish out my day with some semblance of professionalism.
You could say I am crawling to this first trimester finish line. And I’m a bit scared that my body missed the your-second-trimester-starts-on-Saturday-and-you’re-supposed-to-start-feeling-awesome memo.
I spent my anniversary too sick to go out for a simple, quickie dinner date with my man to a local restaurant. Not even a fancy night out, which we knew was asking too much (although it’s still in the plans for when I feel awesome again – that’s going to happen someday, right?). Instead we celebrated our anniversary with me in saggy yoga pants, eating take-out on china by candlelight and then me going to bed alone around 9:30, barely able to hold my head up from exhaustion.
Is this what a pity party looks like?
It seems so selfish of me – I am so very relieved to no longer be dealing with the pregnancy complications I had up until week 12. The stress of bleeding every few days and never knowing if that was going to be the time that I lost my baby. Heck, if I think back real hard (which is tough, because this baby has used all of my brain cells for sustenance and there are very few left for me), I remember the many months of disappointment as we tried to get pregnant and it didn’t happen. The longing I felt while sitting through baby dedication at church.
So don’t get me wrong. I am filled with joy. I am grateful. As I look down at my tiny baby bump (which seems kind of soon to be showing, but I definitely am and will take pictures as soon as I have a day where I feel halfway cute when I get home), I finally feel like there’s outward evidence of all of the crazy things going on inside my body. Sometimes it doesn’t seem real that there’s a tiny life in there, since I can’t feel him/her yet. But then I saw baby’s heartbeat after a big scare (and cried), and saw baby kicking on the ultrasound two weeks ago (and cried), and I’m reminded that there’s a precious little life inside. It’s worth it. I still choose this.
Plus, in happier news, pregnancy has done wonders for my hair. I am one step below hair model status– even on rainy days it just does what I want it to do.
The other upside is that I usually run a pretty high-stress life. I go non-stop, commit to too much, and rest too little. That has easily been fixed these past eight weeks as I’ve quickly become a hermit. I’ve been to church once since Thanksgiving. Once. I’ve been to Target once, and the grocery store once. I haven’t hung out with friends. I’ve seen nobody except for coworkers and family. I no longer feel pressure to be Martha Stewart – to make crafts or cook amazing dinners or have the perfect house. I don’t even wash my hair every day. I feel free.
I did clean out my bathroom cabinet on one good day. And I did a few loads of laundry, although poor Mr. Right had to put it all away (and has done the rest of the laundry). I married a very good man. And in true transparency – today is January 9 and my Christmas tree is still up. I hope to have it down before the baby arrives. In July.
It’s okay to admit that I’m not one of those perky pregnant girls who rocks this whole pregnancy thing. Right now I’m a hot mess with pockets filled with preggie pops and nausea wristbands that have replaced my bracelets and an unnatural addiction to chips and salsa (the only food I really love). I hope this will prove to be a freeing experience for me – I no longer care what other people think about me, because frankly I don’t have the energy. And that’s a great way to live.
Simply by getting up every day, I prove that I am tough.
Week 13 starts on Saturday, and I hope to emerge from my cocoon soon, ready to see friends again. Ready to shop in real stores again (did you know you can buy toilet paper on Amazon?!). I’ll even wash my hair. Probably.