Vera called it. I am not one of those happy go-lucky moms-to-be gushing about how happiiiiiiiiiiiiii they are to be pregnant. I don’t care either. Face it ladies, you lied. Yes, you. Those of you that have kids have this unspoken pact about keeping the horrors of making a human being a secret. And I don’t mean childbirth. At first I was worried about pissing God off and inheriting an unhealthy baby but thanks to the many breeders on babycenter.com, I have found that griping is something women do when pregnant. In secret. The things my body has gone through in the last 12 and a half weeks, I tell you … and they say the third trimester is going to be the worst. At the time, I would be the size of a beached whale. I will cross that bridge when I get to it.
The part I hate the most is the fatigue. Believe it or not the nausea can be managed with crackers, preggie pops and constant nibbling but I don’t think there is a cure for taking a nap while taking a shower. I mean, standing for 10 minutes tuckers me out. And Turtle tried to take a picture of me while I was discreetly trying to get on a WalMart scooter to do my shopping. I constantly feel like I just completed a marathon. My OB’s explanation was easy. Apparently the one’s blood volume doubles in the first trimester, so that means your heart is working twice as hard to circulate all that blood while remaining the same size.
The best part of being tired all the time is that my boss cuts me a lot of slack when she sees me hunched over my desk. I sleep for 12 to 14 hours a day with an occasional side eye from Turtle (who thinks I am faking this thing). I don’t blame him. It is like going from 0 to 60 and then back to 0 in a matter of weeks. The dishes don’t get done (so many fights about this issue), the laundry piles up, and forget about cooking or cleaning or any kind of social activity. All I want to do is recline and let my brain go blank.
Any time Turtle asks me to do something, I roll my eyes and reply, “in a minute, as soon as I am done making arms and elbows.” That usually shuts him up.
And the hormones. Oh lord. Everything makes me cry. Me! And it is true about hating your spouse no matter how great he is. Everything about him just makes you want to act like a possessed woman. You have no idea how many times I have decided I am going to ask for a divorce. I don’t even know if I am aware of exactly what is real and what is not. How did our mothers do this shit over and over again???
On a happy note, I hear all these symptoms are signs of a healthy pregnancy. So while the little bugger is zapping all my nutrients and energy, I get to feel like I got hit by a truck. No wonder women say, “Fuck Father’s Day.”
Yeah. Fuck Father’s Day. We make arms and elbows.