Trimester One Reflection

I made it! I am officially in trimester two, and I feel like I just found out that I’m going to have a baby.  For the first 13 weeks, I was so focused on managing and dealing with the crazy first-trimester symptoms that I never actually thought about why I was experiencing them. It’s hard for people to understand this, as I certainly wouldn’t have pre-pregnancy, so let me explain. 

I think everyone has an idea of what pregnancy will be like before it actually happens to them. I based most, if not all, of my knowledge of what pregnancy was like on the few people I was close to that had been through it; My Mom, my sister Sophie, and Brette. What I later learned the hard way is that every pregnancy is very different, but all three of these lovely ladies had one thing in common: they had pretty easy, symptom-free, laid back pregnancies. Aside from some fatigue, and maybe heartburn here and there, they blew through their 10 months (you’re almost there B!) with almost no issues. So naturally, this is what I thought it would be like for me.

HA! Yeahhh, not so much. I don’t know whether the pregnancy gods just hate me with a burning passion or what, but holy mackerel, have I had a different experience. So I am here to represent the symptom-havers, and to give everyone a little sneak peek into a day in the life of a first-time, first-trimester, pregnancy struggler. 

Although when you’re living this it never seems stop, or begin for that matter, for the purpose of this very informative and accurate blog (hehe…) let’s the start in the morning when I “woke up”. Chances are, on an average morning, I had probably been up for a few hours before I actually got up, just lying in bed, trying desperately not move, because something as simple and seemingly safe as changing position would no doubt cause me to vomit. But sometimes, regardless of my most dedicated effort, I would anyway. Chris and I read that having juice and crackers in the morning before you sat up could help your nausea, so my sweet Bear would truck down to the kitchen, first thing every morning and bring me my juice. We aren’t actually sure how much it helped in the end, since even though it helped me vomit less, throwing up juice was way worse than just stomach acid, so it pretty much evened out. But it was absolutely worth a shot. 

So once I managed to actually, physically get out of bed, I would make my way to the bathroom, if I wasn't there already, to begin the grueling task of brushing my teeth. For whatever reason, I could not brush my teeth without vomiting. No matter what I did, and trust me, I tried everything. So I just brushed them again after the first vomit-inducing brush. Phew.

And then there was the shower. I must admit, by this point in the morning, I am so exhausted, that I rarely had much energy or determination remaining to bathe. Not only because of the exhausting job of washing and conditioning my huge amount of hair, but because, yep, the shower made me barf. Whether the water was hot or cold or what seemed like perfectly room temperature, it changed my body temperature enough to make me lose my cookies… well, juice. So I elected a lot of days to skip the shower. 

This nausea lasted 24 hours a day. And when I say nausea, I most certainly do not mean a “tummy ache” as it was referred to occasionally, or a slight uneasiness. I’m talking about unrelenting, head pounding, sweat-inducing, lightheaded, mouth-watering, where-is-the-nearest-trash-can nausea. Luckily, most of the actual vomiting was limited to the mornings, but the nausea never lessened. It was all I could do to spend my days trying not do anything that might have sent my nausea over the edge and vomit somewhere truly heinous and humiliating. Needless to say, I couldn’t really go anywhere. 

And appropriately, even if I could, I didn’t really want to. Pregnancy fatigue should be called something way more accurate like “Get jumped and beaten to a pulp by 10 big dudes and then swim 41 miles against the current and then run 200 miles uphill with 99 lbs. of concrete on your back and do all this without eating or drinking anything for 3 days.”  So combine this with the nausea, and how can anyone expect you to get anything done, ever? Let’s just say that as hard as I tried, I spent a lot of time staring at my computer screen at work. And that was on a good day. 

Somehow, I would make it through the work day, and arrive at home. Most of the time, I climbed into bed immediately, 5:30pm, fully clothed. I was so tired I thought I might die. But of course I didn’t sleep. The instant I became horizontal, the heartburn would take over and saturate my body, from head to toe, making breathing uncomfortable and sleeping impossible. So I watched TV, re-run after re-run, evening after evening with my sweet, stripy, snuggle bug Ernie, my constant companion, and try to forget about the struggles that consumed my life. At some point, my sweet Bear would get home and make me whatever snack I randomly craved in the middle of the night, always my favorite part of the day… 

As difficult as it was, though, to attempt to manage and control these things that were taking over my body, and really my life, the hardest part was worrying about how all of it was affecting my tiny baby bean. I constantly feared that I wasn’t getting, or keeping down, the calories, vitamins and nutrients that are so important in building a baby and it’s environment.  And trust me when I say, eating is the last thing you want to do when you think you might puke. But each doctor appointment and ultrasound reassured us that our love bug was growing at a healthy rate and all vitals were normal and strong.

While most of these persistent symptoms are supposed to subside around week 12, of course for me it wouldn’t be until week 13 that I finally, FINALLY had some relief.  While those 13 weeks were the most challenging, trying, and exhausting of my life, I am so proud of myself for (mostly) keeping my head up, and more importantly, keeping my job :).

I am very, very excited to announce that I will be 15 weeks tomorrow and I feel like a million bucks! I have absolutely loved the last couple of weeks, not having to worry about symptoms and my best friend vomit, and being able to spend some much needed vacation time in Maine with the love of my life and my family. All of whom have really gone way above and beyond in putting up with my constant whining, complaining, and neediness. So, as a gift to them, I have decided that this blog is the last time I am going to revisit my first-trimester horror stories. I promise, no more vomit tales ya’ll. 

So with all this time to think about other things, it has finally occurred to me that… YAY! I’M HAVING A BABY! Omigosh, I am so excited!

 Let the day-dreaming begin…

Back-up your back-up..

So, obviously Chris and I were not family planning, and definitely not trying to get pregnant.  In fact, we were trying, quite enthusiastically, NOT to. So, how did this happen?

Well, I feel like this topic deserves it’s own dedicated post because of how important it is that people understand the realities of birth control. Yes, I was on birth control. Not only was I using it, but I was using it very responsibly and correctly. Same time every day, without fail. And I got pregnant. 

So I researched and read and did what I could to find out how it was possible that this happened. But it wasn’t until I asked my doctor about it that I finally got my (rather obvious) answer; Birth Control is not 100% effective. Check out your birth control box, I’m sure on there somewhere it says that it’s over 99.9% effective or something similar. Even though I knew this, and you probably do too, nobody ever thinks that they will be the .1% of the time it fails, but I am here to tell you, YOU COULD BE. 

So don’t put all your “eggs” in one “basket”, if you know what I mean.  :)

 

Back-up is key.

The Twilight Zone

It's hard to imagine or predict how you will react to news of this proportion. As someone with the most severe case of baby fever, I would have bet everything I own on the fact that I would be ECSTATIC. And Chris, who had been struggling with the fact that he may not want children at all, I assumed would be DEVASTATED. Boy, was I wrong. 

I was devastated.  Chris was ecstatic. 

I couldn’t explain my reaction, or even understand it myself. Mostly, I was in disbelief. I floated through the next few days, leading up to my first ultrasound. I took a total of seven pregnancy tests in those three days, all which came back positive, (obviously) and each time it stung more. I would have taken even more had poor Christopher not banned me from CVS pharmacy. I just couldn’t accept that it was real.

I had a very specific idea of where I wanted to be when I brought a baby into this world. I wanted everything for my children, the kind of upbringing I was so fortunate to have had myself. I wanted most importantly to be married, and in a happy, healthy partnership with my husband. A relationship that would most certainly pass the test of time, and all of life’s most challenging trials. I had watched my parents growing up, happy, blessed, and fabulously in love until the minute we lost my dad. I would not settle for less. I had seen how children become the inadvertent collateral damage of divorce, and I was determined to protect mine from that. So now that I’m pregnant and unmarried, what are my choices? Get married before it gets here so he/she is born into a “family”? Be unmarried when he/she arrives? Neither sounded appealing to me. After weeks of nonstop thinking, I decided that it is more important for this child to come into a relationship that is solid, loving, and REAL than one that is rushed into a union that may or may not mean anything more than a label. It is crucial to Chris and I’s happiness that we both know for CERTAIN that when we decide to marry, it is only because we have chosen each other as our life partner, based on our love. Whether that happens in five days, or five years, only time will tell. But one thing is for sure, when it happens, I will know in my heart that it is genuine, and that I will undoubtedly be the happiest girl in the world. 

Then of course there is my financial situation. I feel very strongly about being a stay-at-home or work-from-home mom. While I understand that for many, this is not possibility, I believe that for ME  there isn’t any other way. I think that as a mother, it is my responsibility to nurture, care and look after my own children. I should be the one teaching them to walk, and talk, and to know right from wrong. I should know my children better than anyone else. I wanted more than anything to be in a financial situation to be able to focus my attention and energy solely on my family. But as the news of my pregnancy is ever so slowly sinking in, so is the realization that I won’t be able to give my baby this life. At least not at first. Chris and I are doing what we can every day to make this a reality, so I know that it’s only a matter of time before it’s possible. 

Accepting the things I cannot change has been a daily battle. But I have found peace in the fact that I am with the most wonderful man imaginable, who tirelessly attempts to calm my fears, and turn my dreams into realities.