I have never kept it a secret- I
am was an infertile. I struggled through 2.5 years to conceive my son. I was also told I would never be able to have another child after him. My infertile friends- I have been there. I know the sadness. I know the emptiness. I KNOW. Yes, I would get pissed when I would hear a pregnant woman complain about her pregnancy discomforts. I would get pissed when anyone had to leave early or take time off because of their kids. I was quite bitter for a long time. Then, something happened. My husband and I made the decision to just live, be satisfied and be grateful for our great life together. When we got pregnant with Jackson, sure, we were trying to conceive (ovulation kits, vitamins, calendars… yadda yadda yadda), but it was no longer the be all, end all. We were satisfied with our life no matter what.
Being that I have lived through the hurt and sadness of infertility and loss, I always swore that if I ever got pregnant I wouldn’t complain about it. If there is one thing I have learned out of my one and a half pregnancies, it is that I don’t do pregnancy well and damn right, I have complained. Probably even more so the second time around.
Being a pregnant whiner, I feel like a complete and utter failure to the infertile world.
Despite how I often dreamed of having the beautiful big belly and that I would feel like part of some exclusive club, it is not all butterflies and roses. I cannot for the life of me enjoy the following:
- The constant worry that something could go wrong.
- Obsessive TP checks in the 1st trimester.
- Relentless morning sickness with no end in sight and not enough PTO or sick time to cover it
- Vomiting. Nuff said.
- Constant overwhelming exhaustion that easily rivals finals week during college.
- Peeing every 20 minutes or when you least expect to like sneezing, coughing or shifting positions in your chair. Also the having to pee in the middle of the night thing. I really try to ignore it because I treasure my sleep, but it is painfully impossible.
- Excruciating pain in which I can only describe as what it feels like to have been hit by a baseball bat in the vagina. Over and over again.
- Weight gain. And a lot of it. Whether I like it or not.
- Not being able to poop. Is this to prepare us for childbirth?
- The uncontrollable emotional roller coaster. No really. There’s no control. One moment I’m as happy as can be and the next I am sobbing uncontrollably. And I’m sorry to those affected on a daily basis.
- Uncontrollable burping and farting. Seriously. How gross am I?? I’m so gross. And now I’m crying about it.
- Heartburn. Jackson likes to make comments on my mommy candy (a.k.a. Tums) and that they smell good. (Really buddy? They don’t taste as good as they smell).
- It’s going to be 98 degrees today. And no I’m not talking about Nick Lachey. With a heat index of 105, my feet are going to turn into club feet with a Tempurpedic-type quality and may never go back until weeks after giving birth. P.S. Flip flops are not acceptable with my work dress code.
- A posterior placenta: What does this mean? The placenta is towards the back which means I get to feel movement ALL THE TIME. I know some women find the kicking to drive them nuts, but it is the one singular thing I adore about pregnancy. Girlfriend can kick me all day long and I will love every second of it.
- My pregnant belly. It is my badge of honor in a world darkened by infertility. It is the only time I am proud to look huge.
- I’m having a little girl. A GIRL! In a male dominated family, I feel ridiculously blessed to be having a daughter. It’s always been a dream of mine to have a boy and a girl. Yeah, yeah… the grass is not always greener on the other side and they could end up hating each other, but at least in my fantasy world, they are perfection no matter what.
- Feeling complete. It’s one thing to say, “I’m only having one kid,” and have that be your choice. It’s another to have someone tell you, “You will only be able to have one kid.” I felt guilty for feeling like Jackson wasn’t enough, God knows he is enough kid for about 10, but it just FELT like something was missing. Having this chance means our family is complete and whole.
- Jackson is super stoked to have a little sister and it warms my heart when he tells me he is excited to meet her.
The truth is, I just want her here. In my arms. Regardless of how miserable I am, all I want is for the next 127 (give or take a few) days to go quickly because I cannot wait to be her mama.
Here are some back-logged belly pics…
|22 weeks- side profile (Bad hair. Thanks weather)
|22 weeks. Still rockin’ the heels.
Just for fun… and because it makes me feel better about how I look now compared to 5 years ago (because I have been having some very major body image issues), here are some pics from when I was pregnant with Jackson:
|In Bora Bora- 20 weeks pregnant
|Bora Bora- 20 weeks
|My baby shower (and funny husband)- 33 weeks