I like to think I’m a pretty informed, open and down-to-earth individual when it comes to ‘the miracle of life’. I believed it wouldn’t be perfect. I was open to the fact that all day nausea could lay me out flat. I was ready for bizarre weight gain, mood swings, irrational interactions and when all was said and done, ending up with so much more then you ever bargained for. Our attempt at baby-making was planned and during the months leading up to this happy occasion, I had some time to mentally prepare and get my head in the game.
What I wasn’t prepared for?
The immediate doubt that came with that ‘positive’ symbol. ‘WHY WERE WE PLANNING THIS!?’, ‘Whose idea WAS this!?’ (Mine. It was definitely mine), ‘But I’M just a kid!!!!’ and ‘Merciful. Heavens. What. Were. We. Thinking?’.
The feeling of triumph as I experienced zero morning sickness (#winning). I smugly marched into my second trimester (I should have known marching smugly only ever bites you in the ass)… only to be hit with evening nausea and faux fevers every night. My new bedtime is 8:30 PM. Pregnancy really amps up your social life.
The horrifying and vicious amounts of acne. Fun fact: it’s a thing. A pregnancy thing. Because pregnancy isn’t weird and challenging enough – you need MANY monstrous craters bubbling on your face (pro tip: this will only skyrocket your confidence).
The absolute disconnect I experienced as a grower of babies. At first, I was unmotivated to connect with something that was so precarious. I struggled with protecting myself against something possibly so temporary. After sorting through those feelings – I now find myself more settled, but definitely unattached – perhaps this changes when you feel the alien moving inside of you?
The battle work has become. My work takes a toll on my body at the best of times (what with the 1.2 hour commute one-way and the physical requirements of the job) and it is only becoming more and more challenging. I’m hoping by the time we have another kid work will be a non-issue – the government will be finally be PAYING women to carry babies inside of them.
The guilt you feel as a partner. A typical evening: stumble home from work, glare up at your entrance stairs and make a mental note to remind husband to install a lift up to your front door or hire a strong man named Zeus (husband can choose), enter the home sweating, savagely remove majority of clothing, release the hounds from their lair – decide they can take themselves for a walk if they really need it – eat peaches straight from a can whilst lying garbed only in undies on your bed, tell yourself you WILL shower today, pee 8 times, eat a bowl of cereal, don’t shower, go to bed, think about all the things you didn’t do, text husband from bed ‘I feel sick, I am a dirty, pregnant monster, I got nothing done, if you wake me when you get home – my wrath will be legendary, this is all your fault. Also – please pick up fin crisp crackers, Chinese food and sour keys on your way home. Love you.’ #godblessmyhusband
The intense fear and loathing you feel towards maternity clothes. I’m sorry – do trendy people not GET pregnant? Do not get me STARTED on the pregnant world of ruching.
The realization that I am more levelheaded and sane during pregnancy… then I am PMSing. Zero outbursts, zero tears, zero moments where you find yourself in a flaming rage because your partner took a salad dressing bottle to work #idonteveneatsalad. This may or may not be reason enough to remain pregnant at all times.
The BOOBSs. They are in caps … because they are sensational. And because they will no doubt deflate like sad balloons post baby – I will relish in their glory while I can.
How turned on I would get when my husband constructed/set up a baby gate (*husband is currently buying any/all baby gates).
The deep and wild admiration I hold for all women who choose to endeavour on this unpredictable and often harrowing journey. You. Are. Goddesses… and I bow down at your bloated, swollen and enlarged feet.
Pregnancy: The Miracle Of Life? More like – Pregnancy: We Hope You Survive. Because it’s insane.
At A Glance:
Weeks Along: 17.5
Cravings: Sure. Depends on the hour. Sour keys are pretty crucial right now.
Hating: Feeling nauseous when tired – my partying ends around 7:00 PM.
Loving: Refer to ‘BOOBS’ above
Baby item: Just purchased $4.99 onesies – that I can’t even handle. Mostly because I’m concerned our child will be of ogre-like stature and fit none of them.
Photo: Corey Poluk