Pregnancy: It’s Not Pretty

Ok, everyone, time to come clean. I’m pregnant, and I have horrible morning sickness. That should explain the recent sick days. It should be over soon, I hope, so I shouldn’t have any sick days for the next few months, but I wanted to share with you what it’s been like. I wrote this about my first pregnancy, but it still applies. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, and you want to see more, let me know. I have a few more segments. Thanks for sticking with me!

Pregnancy: It’s Not Pretty

I always thought I’d be a parent but I never wanted to have a baby. Labor scared the crap out of me. My plan was to adopt a toilet-trained two-year-old, but my husband objected. He wanted us to have a baby and truth be told, he wore me down. By the time we got married, I was 38. My clock wasn’t ticking, the alarm was going off and much as I tried to hit the snooze, I was pregnant within a month, and let me tell you, they say pregnant women are beautiful but pregnancy is just not pretty.

Month One (two weeks pregnant)

Day 1: The test says “pink” for positive, blue for negative. I see pink, but I see blue too, it’s really more of a mauve. Could it just have soaked through and messed up the test? There are no pictures of what it’s supposed to look like! Why are there no pictures? Thank God I had that sangria last night. It may be my last.
Day 2: The gynecologist’s office. “You probably are pregnant, because those tests are pretty accurate, but we’ll take a blood test just to be sure.” Whew! No peeing in a cup.
Day 3: “You are two weeks pregnant. Would you like to make an appointment with the doctor for six weeks?” Uh, ok. Is that what you do? Until then, what do I do? What do I eat? What do I quit? Why six weeks? I have questions now! Ok, WebMD says no drinking, no Advil, no sushi, no brie, no cold cuts, no diet soda. No diet soda? Are you freakin’ kidding me? How does one live without diet soda?
Day 8: Well, except for the no soda, this isn’t so bad. I tried regular soda and eeew! That high fructose corn syrup leaves a lingering sour taste, like I just vomited. Speaking of throwing up, I don’t feel any different. Hard to believe there’s a person growing inside me. Maybe it’ll be fun.
Day 9: Hmm, I feel a little queasy. Really isn’t so bad, though. Good. I was afraid I’d have bad morning sickness.
Day 13: “Honey, is it really ok for me to fly to this interview this week? I’ll be a five-hour plane ride away, so I can’t get here right away in an emergency. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself
“I’m pregnant, not crippled, Sweetie. Relax. It’s fine.”

Month Two (two days later)

Day 15: Oh, my God, I can’t even stand up, my head weighs a ton and changing position adds to the nausea. The very idea of food is repulsive, but they say it’s the only way to make this feel any better. The idea of anything with flavor grosses me out. I may be able to choke down some bread. I just want to lie motionless but I can’t because I have to constantly scratch my legs, my boobs, my back and my feet. God, why didn’t we just get a puppy?
Day 16: “Hello?” “Want some fish from Seattle, Honey? I’m at the fish market and they’ll throw it to me! ” Oh, God, eew. I think my superhuman nose actually smells it. I didn’t think it was possible, but I feel worse. “They have halibut!” Oh, God, please shut up. Just shut up.
Day 17: Called in sick. On the way from the airport, my worried husband stopped for seasick wrist bands and after wearing them for two hours, I was able to sit up straight. The thought of eating makes me woozy. My head hurts, my body aches, and I feel dizzy, which only worsens the never-ending nausea. I’m only 5 weeks pregnant, so I can’t go on maternity leave which means I have to function at work tomorrow.
Day 18: At work. If the hour and a half commute in a shimmying pickup didn’t kill me, the food smells from the microwave will. I just have to sit at the computer and feign normalcy. Fortunately no one will notice I’m sick because now I look like all the other federal drones in our windowless office.
Day 24: My first OB appointment. “Give us a urine sample. You’ll do this every visit.” Oh, I can’t wait to soak my undies and fingers once a month. “Let’s take a look at the baby.” Seriously? Cool. “Ok, there’s only one baby. There it is.” Holy crap, the idea of twins never occurred to me. Are they sure it’s a baby? It looks like a marshmallow. But there’s definitely something in there. Are you sure it’s not a cyst? How am I feeling? Oh, lady, you don’t know the half of it. Normal, yes. No treatment or cure? Women have been having babies for thousands of years. How is it that we have a cure for impotence and not morning sickness? If men had the babies, women would rule the world.
Day 25: I am exactly as sick as I was last week. Potatoes, pasta and bread are my friends. The ginger candy the doctor recommended works for about five minutes, but they are five minutes of bliss. This is new: if anyone or anything physically touches my belly (like pants), my head gets swimmy. And I was heretofore unaware of this, but there are NO maternity stores in Annapolis, MD. Well, one in the mall, but I hate the mall. Thank God for Target.
Day 26: I threw up before work this morning. The hour reprieve from nausea was quite unexpected and pleasant.
Day 30: I’m so tired, I can’t stop shivering. I had so many errands and chores that I pushed myself too hard and now every time I get tired, I quake uncontrollably.

Month Three

Day 40: I haven’t felt this suicidal since high school. I can’t go to work like this anymore. I can’t get out of bed and commute and function and pretend I’m ok while my stomach threatens to turn itself inside out. I can still get an abortion, right? If I did, the sickness would go away and I wouldn’t have to go through labor and then we could adopt a toilet-trained 2-year old like I wanted in the first place. Shoot. Snooze alarm expired. I have to take a shower. You’d think it’d feel good, but it just makes me hot and more nauseated.
Day 48: Everyone says once you hit the second trimester the nausea will go away. Well, everyone except those few bitches that felt the need to share that they were sick the whole pregnancy. Nice. Your kids are in their 20s. Let it go. Let’s talk in a month if it doesn’t go away. Until then, shut up and don’t take away my only shred of hope. I have noticed, though, that women with multiple children tend to say they didn’t have morning sickness. That explains a lot.