-When are you due?
-What are you having?
-How are you feeling?
My responses; I'm due in August; we find out in a few more weeks; the second trimester has been better than the first. The first two questions are truthful, but in actuality nobody really wants a straight answer to that last one. That's because pregnancy is a blessing and as excited and grateful as I am to be carrying another living being inside of me, the truth is how I feel is varying degrees of shitty.
The reality of pregnancy is that there are days when you have only one symptom rear its' ugly head and you consider that a good day. In the past 17 weeks I've been able to relate to Juno's heartburn radiating in her knee caps, broken a few sound barriers with my new found ability to pass gas from both ends, peed myself on the way to bathroom, broken out like an adolescent boy, and between low blood sugar and nausea my activity level falls somewhere between a slug and a 12 year old Labrador's.
Just today I exerted myself while trying to coax my pug out from under the deck because he was scared of the mountainous snowdrifts and couldn't fit his roly-poly hind end between the stair treads. The ten minutes I spent gently persuading him then desperately cursing him because there was no way I could army crawl under there to get him, was a perfect example of the emotional roller coaster I ride nonstop everyday. This adventure ended with him finally crawling out and whimpering to be picked up and me rushing inside to have my second yak fest of the day in the kitchen sink!
Speaking of food, my sweet, well meaning midwife sat across from me last week in all her size 6 glory after popping out three kids, med free, with her cute little nose ring and recommended that more exercise and homemade Lara Bars would make me feel sooooooo much better! Again I put on my polite face and thanked her for bestowing her wisdom upon me when I really wanted to scream at her to let me listen to my little nugget's heart beat so I could high tail it out of there to the Taco Bell two blocks away to order myself a bean burrito that would inevitably trigger another bout of heartburn.
So I have officially decided that consequences be damned, I am not one of those women to post #Blessed on my status feed and brag about how being pregnant is the best feeling in the world. The ugly truth is that this process sucks but in approximately 22 weeks the suckage will be worth the time spent sharing the real estate of my body with my little succubus. Until then I'll eat my store bought Lara Bars, walk to the bathroom a hundred times a day, and invest in a big vat of Tums. As for the gas, I'll just blame that on the dogs!
Speaking of food, my sweet, well meaning midwife sat across from me last week in all her size 6 glory after popping out three kids, med free, with her cute little nose ring and recommended that more exercise and homemade Lara Bars would make me feel sooooooo much better! Again I put on my polite face and thanked her for bestowing her wisdom upon me when I really wanted to scream at her to let me listen to my little nugget's heart beat so I could high tail it out of there to the Taco Bell two blocks away to order myself a bean burrito that would inevitably trigger another bout of heartburn.
So I have officially decided that consequences be damned, I am not one of those women to post #Blessed on my status feed and brag about how being pregnant is the best feeling in the world. The ugly truth is that this process sucks but in approximately 22 weeks the suckage will be worth the time spent sharing the real estate of my body with my little succubus. Until then I'll eat my store bought Lara Bars, walk to the bathroom a hundred times a day, and invest in a big vat of Tums. As for the gas, I'll just blame that on the dogs!
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