The Horror That is the First Trimester
So, I'm seventeen weeks pregnant (!!!). Now that I'm far enough removed from the first trimester, I can look back on it with fondness and nostalgia. You know, the "wherever has the time gone?" sort of thing.
This was not always the case.
Let's get real here (hashtag realtalk). The first trimester was not a beautiful thing, like so many claim that pregnancy is. Yes, I was starting to grow a new life. Yes, I was already falling in love with my child. But I couldn't feel that child. I only knew I was pregnant because I was either throwing up or trying not to throw up all day, er'yday. And that's not normal, non-preggo behavior, y'all.
It hit when I was about seven weeks, which is also when I found out I was pregnant. I'd been hoping for that sickness to come for months, so at first I was happy. So very naive. Don't get me wrong; we have been completely and totally thrilled since we realized we were expecting (please see my first Dear, Baby post).
But then one day, Adam asked if I wanted mayonnaise, which I normally love, on my sandwich. I lost it. I barely made it to the toilet, which I then hugged tightly during a violent lose-my-guts sesh. I walked shakily back to the kitchen, where Adam was waiting. We exchanged a what-are-we-even-doing look, and then we burst out laughing. We're on our way to becoming parents. It's scary. And exciting.
So the nausea was ugly, but I learned to manage it. Sometimes, I'd still have a moment when I would lose my lunch, but I learned that if I could just keep something in my stomach, it was better. And now, I'm sick, but not violent sick. There is now a light at the end of the tunnel.
And then, there was the fatigue. You associate being sick with pregnancy. I wasn't expecting the fatigue! I would barely make it through work, come home and fall asleep, maybe make it up for dinner, and then go back to bed. Poor Adam. I barely saw him in the waking hours, and I definitely wasn't cooking. Raw meat? Are you joking? How about Cheez-It's for dinner? Yes, again. He handled my tired phase like a complete champ. It's not like when you don't get enough sleep. It's like you haven't slept in three years but you're also sleeping all the time and you just don't even care because you still feel like you haven't slept in three years. It's a vicious cycle. And it's gone now (super duper thankful) but I'm definitely still sneaking naps in whenever possible.
So, yeah. We've come a long way in a few short weeks. I'm not constantly puking. I can get by without multiple naps a day. We've been able to see our baby several times. Seeing those little hands and feet and nose makes every bit of the above horror worth it, a million times over. I'm incredibly thankful I was chosen to carry this child, and if I have to be sick and tired for a few weeks, I'm still getting the better end of this deal.