Some things we just know intuitively. As for me, I’ve always had a feeling I would not LOVE being pregnant.
From conception to week seven, I felt great. Apart from the mood swings, my rather symptom-free pregnancy seemed too good to be true.
It was.
At eight weeks I am convinced that pregnant women who claim to love everything about their changing, growing, hormonal selves are not in the first trimester. While my body is hard at work developing the baby’s breathing tubes, connecting brain cells and forming primitive neural pathways, I am fighting the urge to retreat to the bedroom, fluff my pillow and dream the day away. I have equated my symptoms to feeling like I am coming down with a cold two days before my period. I am cranky, spaced out and lethargic. Nausea hits early in the morning but graciously subsides after a light breakfast. Queasiness during the day is a signal that it has been two and a half hours since the last time I ate. I am happy one minute then complaining to my husband the next. With each sunrise I am greeted by new blemishes on my chin and jaw line. According to most pregnancy websites I should be experiencing excessive saliva, but regardless of how many liters of water I drink a day, my mouth is always dry. Then there is the pregnancy fog that rolls in at random and whisks my mind away to some place high in the clouds. My pregnancy is still a secret; I have been staying in weeknights and even missed a couple dinner parties because I was feeling out of it. As of now I am afraid that until the big announcement (at twelve weeks)--or until I am fun again, whichever comes first--I will be spending a lot of evenings at home nesting.
Time seems to be dragging its feet; my April 28th due date feels so far away. The only times I am not hypervigilant of the amazing metamorphosis that is taking place inside me are when I am working and running. The rest of the day I am prodding to myself to take mental breaks: Julie, for the next couple of hours, forget you are pregnant. Unfortunately I associate not being pregnant with enjoying a glass of wine. Back to square one.
Overall, I must admit my pregnancy has not been bad. I am grateful that [so far] I have not had to hug the toilet bowl once. My biggest complaints are feeling tired and swirly and no longer being able to do as I please. Who knows, maybe there will be a major rush of endorphins waiting to lift me up and carry me into the second trimester. I’ll keep you posted.
