When does the fun part of pregnancy start?

It started off feeling like a migraine. You know those prodrome-y parts of the migraine when you feel vaguely sick as a warning that the holy-mother-of-God part is coming next? I took some Fioricets and nothing worked. I was cranky and emotional, as if I was PMS-ing.

I didn’t feel very hungry as I browsed the Printer’s Row Lit Fest, and I didn’t finish my Potbelly shake. The cookie sounded horrible and too sweet. I must be getting sick, I thought. Then on the way to a pug party (yes, there is such thing!) I felt rather sick on the train. The wave of nausea was so bad as i sat there, hoping the train ride would end. I ate only french fries when I got there. And that night i was so cranky and on edge that I snapped at my husband.

Because my period is all over the place, and because no implant or pill ever worked for me, I have to take a pregnancy test before starting a course of progesterone that drags Aunt Flo out of its reclusive hiding just to fucking get the PMS over with.

One line. Then two.

“Oh, God.”

You know how I told my husband? I woke him immediately by turning on the light in the bedroom and shoving the test toward him telling him to look at it. He did, bleary-eyed. Then he got up and poured himself a small glass of port.

I panicked and cried, calling my doctor and psychiatrist¬† and OB-GYN the very next day because I didn’t believe the other two pee stick tests when they also were positive.

Then I felt spacy, like my brain was misfiring when I withdrew from one of my antidepressants. (That’s a subject for another post.) My uterus cramped as it grew.

I felt in shock when the ultrasound showed a little blip with a strong heartbeat. No fucking way that’s inside of me. Seriously? No way.

But the ultrasound picture is still there. Proof.

Then the unholy misnomer of morning sickness began and I staggered to work and sat at my desk trying not to do anything or smell anything that might set off a wave of dry heaving (and oh how I fucking hate barfing). Even with Zofran and the Diclegis, I was so nauseous I had to let my boss and coworkers know just WHY I was down to a fraction of my super-productivity.

I’m only now emerging from the shell of morning sickness–just in time to go to Pride Parade with my friends, but the mornings still suck and so does the acid reflux and the gas and the diarrhea and constipation and the being hungry all the time but only liking an ever-rotating selection of foods.

Hot dogs. Pickles. Mandarin oranges. Jiffy blueberry muffins. Macaroni and cheese. Lucky Charms cereal.

Thank goodness only healthy-ish foods sound good to me–I can’t stand anything too greasy or sugary or salty. I couldn’t even finish the amazing ice cream from Eataly a few days ago just because I was sick of it after a few glorious bites. (dammit, I wanted to be fat and eat the whole thing).

It’s been a hell of a roller-coaster since we found out three weeks ago. Three weeks ago. Damn. And I’m just now kind of getting excited, you know, in between the moments of panic and sheer terror and being scared out of our gourds and worrying about how to pay for childcare and trying to cobble together some sort of faux-maternity leave because I don’t have maternity leave benefits.

The animals know nothing about it. You know how some animals sense when people are in distress? All four of mine don’t have that sense. Joe insists on being in the sink in the direct line of barf. Pepper peed on the carpet three times because his pee schedule was upset due to my nausea. Missy wants to walk around in the smelly hallway. Pumpkin wants to be fed now, dammit.

Who the hell are those people who absolutely LOVE pregnancy? So far I just feel sick. Maybe when I stop feeling sick I’ll be more excited and less anxious about money and child care and maternity leave? (and curses! I can’t have Ativan!)

I feel like such an impostor. Other people get excited when they hear about pregnancies and babies, especially if they have difficulty with pregnancies and having kids, and I’m just here forcing a smile and only half-truthful when I say I’m excited too.


When will the fun part of pregnancy start?

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