Well. That was unpleasant.
For those keeping track at home, I’m now a hair over 13 weeks pregnant, and feeling decidedly more human. I’m still quite pathetic in the energy department, sleeping anywhere between 10-12 hours/night and have some pretty awful food aversions. But it’s definitely been a slow, steady climb back up to feeling more like a real human than the victim of some awful parasite. To be fair, I am still feeling like I got the short end of the stick playing host to a parasite – I just happen to think the parasite maybe isn’t totally awful.
The first trimester has at least been full of interesting observations:
If you are currently really into food and cooking and alcoholic drinks, and may become pregnant in the not-so-distant future, might I suggest you find an additional hobby or two to sustain you while in the “puking your guts out, lost the will to live” phase? I’ve felt like I have been drifting, rudderless, through the past couple months, without my usual pleasurable distraction to turn to when I can’t take it anymore. If nothing else, at least have a good book or two on standby.
Maternity & Kid stuff has some INCREDIBLY stupid names. There are tons of beautiful, well-designed and very useful products. But they have stupid names like “petunia picklebottom” and “bugaboo” and “preggie pops.” Here’s a hint for manufacturers: If it embarrasses me to speak the brand name of a product, I am unlikely to buy it. (Except those damn preggie pops – anti-nausea candies that are effing lifesavers – and it DESTROYED MY PRIDE when I had to utter the name out loud while looking for them at the store.)
People are really interested in touching my gas bubble. The fetus is just 3″ long, and my uterus has barely risen out of my pelvis. But I’m SUPER bloated. So, rub the gas-baby at your own risk people. Soon I’m going to stop holding in the farts it stimulates.
The hormones are interesting. I will cry at just about anything. Bad news, good news, those damn SPCA commercials, the fact that Neil put too much Kale in my spaghetti sauce and it’s now just not red enough. Thing that does not inspire wild fluctuations in emotion? Seeing other people’s children. Definitely excited about my own. Pretty ambivalent toward yours (though if yours is screaming, my shortened temper makes ambivalence step aside for hating your child with the heat of 1000 fiery suns). Of course, I still like the kids of my friends & family – but I have not been magically transported into the land of being a “kid person.”
When I said I slept 10-12 hours/night, what I really meant was I spend those hours in bed. The last really good night of sleep I had was July 6th, 2010. One of those amazing, incredible nights where I hit the pillow, crashed out instantly, and woke up feeling so refreshed I thought I must’ve overslept my alarm. Except, nope! I woke up 5 minutes before it was set to go off! Now I wake up twice nightly. Once at 2am to pee. Once at 4am, just for the extra “haha fuck YOU” from my body. It’s a treat, really.
But! Considering I’m actually able to function now, I’m really a whole lot happier than I was. And none too soon! We’ve got trips to Chicago and Vegas planned, and my oldest little brother’s wedding in the middle of those. I’m just trying not to think about the heebie-jeebies and hives I’m likely to get when I have to wander into a maternity store to find clothes, so I can actually leave the house in something other than Neil’s sweatpants.