I hate pregnancy.
Not something you expect to hear from someone who yearned for another child. Nor from any mother, really. We are conditioned to believe that pregnancy is magical and we glow and rainbows shoot out of our butts.
And it is magical. Let me just say up front that I am Astounded (capital on purpose) by the things my body does to sustain this life. I am so very grateful to be nourishing my next child, to be the haven where the bebe develops.
But I am tired of this process I have barely begun.
There is no glow. There is SWEAT. Because even if you feel like you are chilly, you are sweating through the ‘clinical strength’ deodorant and the cami you have to wear to keep your belly from hanging out and the shirt over that and the sweater you wrap around yourself, cause gosh darn it, it is CHILLY. And it SMELLS.
The thick, lustrous hair is a lie. It just looks thicker because of the knots between the layers. That is not shine, that is grease.
Clear skin? HA! My bacne and zit on my NECK (WHAT?!?!) mock that notion.
You notice I waddle? That is because the hormones are loosening my limbs for my hyperactive bebe to expand its living quarters and knocking my hips out of place.
That knowing little smile? Just means that you should move out of the path to the toilet because I am about to hurl.
I am tired of being unable to get comfortable. Of getting up in the middle of the night to pee. Of not being able to eat anything. Of wanting to vomit at the most inopportune moments. Of losing my patience. Of being worn out. Of taking half doses of my anti-depressants, and worrying that the little bit I am taking will forever damage my child.
I am jealous of women who do this effortlessly, who can breeze through pregnancy like a little blip in the road. My body looks like it should be built for babies, but it takes pregnancy hard. I wonder why I seem to struggle so much through something that is a natural event that millions of women endure. I feel like I am not the strong woman I know I am.
I want coffee and sushi and midol.
But more than that, I want my baby. I want my daughter’s sibling. I want to kiss it and love it and know that it is ok and not worry that the heartbeat stopped or I did something wrong I never knew about and there will be no more baby.
This growing babies business is tough.
*I mean no disrespect to those women who are having a hard time getting pregnant. I AM grateful for this pregnancy, and I KNOW how lucky I am. Just a vent, ladies!