I’m gonna give you a news flash, being pregnant is hard.
I know, I know. Duh, right? But apparently, from my first pregnancy to my second, I forgot a few things. Everyone would ask me about being pregnant, and be like, “Oh well, you have pretty easy pregnancies, right?” And yes, this is true. I have boring doctor’s appointments, I don’t have to give myself shots every day for any reason, and I never got morning sickness. So I totally psyched myself out when we were trying to get pregnant this time that I could handle it.
Another news flash…I am not handling it so well. First of all, when you get pregnant, you have to stop taking the fun drugs. The happy pills. And also the pills that make you better when you have a cold. (Aleve Cold & Sinus!! Ironically, you can’t take the particular drug not because of the meth ingredient in it, but because it contains naproxen. Weird.) Also, you get tired. Very, very tired. And when you have a very busy toddler to take care of, there is no napping. Or sitting down. And don’t let people lie and tell you that the second trimester is GREAT!! Bullshit. I have been just as tired throughout my second trimester as I was the first, and now that I am in my third, I am even more tired.
Another thing you forget about is the hormones. Mine have been crazy the past 7 months. Most of the time, I maintain a pretty level of low. I am not that “glowing” happy pregnant person. I am in a constant state of annoyance. I am one breath away from breaking my hand by punching drywall. My usual causes for aggravation are everyday interactions with people. I get exasperated when people who will not normally talk to me feel obligated to start a conversation with me simply because I am pregnant. This is how the conversation goes on my end. Every. Single. Time.
“I’m due in August. No, we don’t know what we’re having. Yes, it’s rare nowadays. Yes, we just think it is more fun that way. My daughter will be 19 months when the new baby is born. No, she doesn’t realize she is going to have a little brother/sister because she is 16 months old.”
Yesterday, someone (who is a very nice person and I really shouldn’t pick on) asked me when I was due. And then he asked me how the baby was. I assumed he meant my daughter, because while she is no infant, she is still my baby. I kind of thought we had covered the fetus part of the conversation. And when I said that she was fine, he was like, “OH! You are having a girl?!” This has happened more times than I can count. Not only did I cease to exist as a person when I became pregnant, and am simply a carrier for the parasite that is my baby in my belly, but now my daughter now ceases to exist as well. Which bothers me even more.
Another thing about being pregnant is that you gain weight. Again, duh. But I honestly think that I am about as big now as I was when I delivered Sam. And I have 10 weeks to go. Since I deal with the bowling ball that is attached to my belly (everyone says basketball…but basketballs are light, bowling balls are not) on a 24 hour a day basis, my patience when people bring it up is starting to wear a bit thin. My typical response is “Yep, I’m fat.” PEOPLE, if you know me in real life, this is NOT me fishing for a compliment. I have recently (as in yesterday) realized that it comes across sounding as though I need a pep talk. Or maybe I am just making people feel really awkward and they don’t know how to respond, so to fill the void, they say things like “Oh, you look great!” or “You are supposed to gain weight, you are pregnant!” or “You have to gain weight so you’ll have a healthy baby!”
I know of all these things. They are not news flashes. And I’ve been telling myself these things for the past few weeks. But when you are lying in bed, and you want to roll over, and you feel as though you have to grab your belly and throw it across the room simply so you can lie on your left side, well…all I am saying is, sometimes it gets old. And when you stand up (because lying down is uncomfortable) and it feels, literally, like you have a bowling ball attached to your stomach, and you can’t take it off, and it’s hanging there hurting your back and your legs and your shoulders, well…it makes you want to cry. I asked Workaholic last night if he could carry the load for a while, and he put out his hand and then laughed at me. Ass.
Then there are the things that you don’t talk about. Things that have to do with bathrooms, and the lack of productive time I’ve been spending in one. I brought it up to my doctor a few weeks ago, and at my last appointment, I had to bring it up again. And, I shit you not, (HAHAHA!!) I am on a regimen. A full on, three over-the-counter medicines, regimen. It took a few days to kick in, and while I am far from perfect, at least I no longer feel as though I am carrying the crap for everyone in the US around inside of me.
Which one would think would make me feel better. But now I am in the part of the pregnancy where you don’t get a straight 8 hours sleep. I wake up every day between 4 and 5 am. I don’t know why, although lately a nature call is usually involved. The other night, we had a terrible storm, and I woke up a few minutes before it started and then wandered around the house during the whole thing. Me + not enough sleep = very crabby Gail. If you had any doubt about that, please read the 8 paragraphs above.
I know things will be better, yet worse, after I have the baby. But at least I will be able to drink. For now, I may just go into hiding.