When you google images of pregnancy there are many cute pictures that pop up, most like this one, with heart shaped hands around the belly, showing a couple excited about their new little one. Other images include cute pregnant woman and adorable bellies sans the stretch marks. It all looks so glorious and fabulous.
These pictures do not depict how I have been feeling about pregnancy lately. I wanted to see a picture of a woman leaning over a toilet, indicated lots of terrible morning sickness, or a woman in bed at 8:00 p.m. barely making it to her 1st child's bed time before passing out. I'm not sure if I REALLY wanted to see these images, but they seemed more appropriate for my mood lately than all the adorable and happy pictures I saw.
When I became pregnant with Berkeley, it was great. I really don't remember feeling fatigued or sick much. I thought that pregnancy stuff was pretty easy, no big deal, what is everyone complaining about. Besides heavy weight gain, sciatica, and fierce leg cramps, my first pregnancy was pretty great. I was hoping for a repeat, minus all the negative side effects.
My hopes were soon destroyed when week six of pregnancy #2 arrived. The nausea began and it was nasty and unpleasant. The exhaustion soon arrived as well and boy did it kick my butt! I found it incredibly difficult to do anything besides wake up, work, and go to bed. I felt myself slipping as an on the ball, get things done, super mom kinda lady I like to think that I am. Soon, getting an e-mail or a text was too overwhelming, as the thought that I had to respond was almost too exhausting to handle. Berkeley desperately wanted me to play with him after work and I tried so hard, but most the time all I could manage was, "Lets watch a movie." Luckily this made him happy, but was not a parenting win I was proud of.
A few weeks went by and the nausea got worse, like really bad, like puking in nursing home bathrooms and garbage cans constantly. I do not have the best job in the world for when your sense of smell heightens and your reflexes loosen. I had been trying everything suggested and NOTHING was helping; is all this stuff just a joke? One particular Wednesday I woke up puking at 6 a.m. and finally felt safe enough to walk out the door at 10 a.m. with a change of clothes and a plastic bag in tow. I made it to the assisted living, and into the bathroom I went. I tried to keep down some saltines and they came up in the waste basket. By the end of the day, I had kept nothing down. Thursday came and the same routine ensued. I had a busy day of family meetings at work and was trying as hard as I could to be on my game with nothing in my stomach and little to no energy. This happened to be a day when at one family meeting a Patients daughter started yelling at me about how I was killing her mother. I went home and continued throwing up whatever stomach bile was willing to come up. I became a weak weak woman. Berkeley watched my throw up and cheered for me, "Good job mom! Way to go!" He somehow loved to watch me suffer. As soon as I finished, he thought it was play time, since I was on his level and all. So he jumped on my back and wanted to play; why does a four year old not understand that this is not appropriate? By the time Friday rolled around and I had to run to the toilet at 6 a.m. yet again, I just became a big ball of tears, I was ready to give up on life. It is amazing how dramatic one can get when one has no food in the body and has hormones raging.
I made an appointment to see the doctor, which is another terrible story all in its self, but I left the office THREE HOURS later with a prescription for zofran. Enter expensive, insurance only covers one a day, miracle drug.
Since this miraculous medicine the nausea is much more manageable. Yet, I still seem to be a grumpy pregnant woman. I am so completely exhausted, my boobs hurt, I mean really hurt, a lot. My hips feel like someone is inside kicking them apart constantly. I am constipated all the time due to the zofran, even with taking stool softeners every day. Work, of course has become increasingly busy with a census of over 50 patients that I am trying to manage on my own, while having the energy to work a solid 20 hours, not the 45-50 I have had to. Pregnancy does not go hand in hand with working, they really don't mix well at all.
I started feeling hopeful, that I was 13 weeks this week, and that everyone had promised I would feel better and more energized any day now. Okay, I can do this I thought. Wednesday night I went on a 3.5 mile run with my ladies around the Charles and after started having pain in my back, which I soon realized was the return of my sciatica. My lower back and left butt cheek now have shooting pain all the time and running doesn't seem like it will be happening for a good 7 months. This thought alone, just throws me into a state of depression, as I was hoping to run for at least 3 more months.
So this weekend, I sit here, being depressed, complaining to my very patient and understanding husband. Is it really worth it, I think? I seem too depressed at times to even be excited about the little creature I am growing inside. I lose sight of why I am doing this constantly and focus on poor pitiful me. I don't know how woman do this? I don't know how I can do this? Is it bad, that I don't want to do this? I just want the baby to be here already. Do people really like to be pregnant? Do they really like gaining weight and feeling fat and having no control over it? Do they like that no clothes fit them and they have to spend money on clothes they will only wear for 6 months?
So there, I needed to write this, to let you know how I have been feeling....crummy, depressed, pitiful.
But now, I will try to have my glass be half full.
We tried for almost a whole year to get pregnant with no success. It was frustrating to want something so badly and not be able to have it, when getting pregnant with Berkeley happened so quickly. We thought long and hard about what we wanted and we wanted one more child to complete our family. I know that this little baby will bring us joy beyond measure once it is here and that we will love and be fulfilled in ways we didn't know were possible.
I hate to talk about my woes when I know so many women wish they could have woes and be pregnant and they are not able. I do not wish to offend anyone with this post.
I am thankful for a God that has blessed me with the gift to be a mother again. I don't mean to be a complainer, I am grateful, but it is hard work. I look forward to meeting this little one and being a mom to two. I really am going to try to have a better attitude about the entire situation, but I wont beat myself up for the tough days when I feel like I need to give up, cause it is rough, tough and sometimes just plain rotten. It will be good, beautiful and wonderful soon I know.
I am not writing this to complain (okay, maybe I am); it has been cathartic to get off my chest. It's just that we women endure a lot during the first trimester of our pregnancy, and we have to suffer alone, cause nobody really knows that we are pregnant until the end of the misery. Our poor husbands are champs aren't they? What a gem my sweet Christian has been; he has stepped up to the plate in so many ways the last 3 months and has been ever so patient with my crazy mood swings.
My complaints are out, I am going to work to count my blessings this week, and just be okay with where I am. I will do the best I can each day, and know that it will not be what I normally do, and that is okay. But if you catch me being grumpy, just give me a hug and give me a squeeze of encouragement to get through the next day.