I want to be in the body of a woman who claims that their pregnancy was amazing. I want to feel great, rejuvenated. I want to glow.
Instead, I’m walking around with a migraine and a deathly pallor that’s sure to frighten young children. Now, before you tell me, “Oh you’re having a girl!” please stop and ask if you want me high five your forehead. This foreign being forming inside me has to be a boy. It has to be! There’s no way a daughter of mine would torture me so because, later in life, she’d be feeling the same thing. No, this is definitely a boy. And he takes after his father.
Okay, that was mean. I love my husband. Poor guy found out that he would be a daddy again with the following text message attached to a photo of a positive pregnancy test: Umm, surprise?
But he doesn’t get it. I really want to keep replaying the same line over and over again, “Have you ever been pregnant before?” or “I’m not in a bad mood, I feel like shit, so shut up.” That does sound mean, but seriously, no man can comment on this. If you do, I’ll look at you and say, “You grow a baby.” I’m a terrible wife when I’m pregnant, but I think we’ve all come to terms with this.
As I think about this, being pregnant has made me a terrible mother. I literally try to convince my 18 month old to watch her favorite movie and bribe my 6 year old with popcorn so she’ll sit with her while she does it. Also, I only invited people to her birthday party Wednesday of this week- seriously, I gave parents a 3 day notice of a birthday party.
Votes for mom of the year are definitely warranted here.
Now, back to my misery.
All I want to do is sleep. All. Day. Long. Now, typically, this wouldn’t be an issue, but I work full time, have a (newly) 6 year old and an 18 month old. My job requires much work time at home. My husband’s job requires me to be home alone at night (like how I flipped that to make it seem like I’m the victim? Poor guy is out working long days, and I’m the one who suffers). Anyway, naps are totally out of the question.
So, here’s how I’ve been surviving: I don’t clean.
Okay, so I didn’t really clean before, but now- it’s bad. I had my daughter’s 6th birthday party today, so I vacuumed before the party and after the party, but there are enough balloons floating in my house to bring us to Paradise Falls and enough dirty dishes on my counter to gross you out. But, now that the baby is in bed, I’m sitting on the couch writing instead of cleaning up. And I’m watching a cartoon because the remote is all the way over there.
Now, back to my misery. According to BabyCenter.com, this is my current status: “You may or may not be ready for maternity wear now. Even if you’re not there yet, your regular clothes are probably feeling uncomfortably tight and your blossoming breasts are straining the seams of your bra. The thickening in your midsection is most likely due to slight weight gain and bloating.”
How does that sound? Great, huh?
So, as I sit here, drinking a glass of water, praying for Jesus to turn it into wine, I’m thinking, two more weeks and this trimester is over.
And I’ve said that out loud to people. Their response? “My sickness lasted my entire pregnancy!” Thanks guys, for the positive reinforcement.
Also, I can’t wait to feel energy again, umph, get up and go. All of the websites tell me to get up and exercise and I’ll feel better. You’ve got to be kidding me. The thought of me climbing the stairs to pee for the 13th time in the last two hours makes me want to cry. I wish I could open the door and pee standing up… one more reason male counterparts suck. Anyway.
Maybe I’m being unfair, it’s not their fault they were blessed with a Y chromosome. Seriously, being a guy has got some serious benefits, like, never having to grow a living object and higher salary rates. This baby better be a boy so I can mooch off of him when he’s making more than my two daughters put together. (Mark my words child, there will be payback for this.)
My lamenting and whining is probably annoying to people who are facing much bigger problems, but seriously, this sucks. Many pregnant women have it worse, and many women in this world are not even capable of conceiving children, so I’m sorry if my plight has gotten under your skin… but I had to get it out- just had to!
In the mean time, I’ll continue to covet my nightly glass of wine and the time in my life that I actually craved working out. Now, I will eat Ramen noodles and take my prenatal vitamins in gummy format. I will take a nap every two minutes I possibly can and I will procrastinate housework. I will whine and complain about my misery and be totally unbalanced and irrational. In 7 months, I will complain about the pain of labor, and rejoice my pure euphoria of my newfound love for the most perfect child I will have ever seen (in equivalence of my other two, of course). I will have forgotten my misery and become a human cow (which I’m okay with because, after all, every ounce of breast milk I produce burns 20 calories.) I’m okay with the actual parenting thing- it’s getting there that I’m struggling with. I will relish the day that I feel better, in the mean time, everyone around me will likely be as miserable as I, just a warning!
Say something nice to a pregnant lady today, and don’t be insulted if she replies with something totally negative…