The Honeymoon is Over

When hubs and I started trying to get pregnant, I did tons of research on pregnancy, getting pregnant, baby products (I think I had half of my registry built before I even saw those two, coveted pink lines)... you name it. I could probably be a midwife I read so much. Ok, maybe not. But I did read a lot.

One of the repeat pieces of information that I came across was that most pregnancies follow this pattern:

First trimester - sick, tired, sick again. Most women feel miserable until about the 12th or 14th week when energy levels will start to rise and nausea will, hopefully, subside. Oh, and you aren't showing at this point so you either have to tell people your complexion is green because you have a 3-month-long flu or bite the bullet and tell them what's really going on (if they haven't already guessed).

Second trimester - the "honeymoon phase." This will be the best and easiest part of pregnancy. You'll be feeling better, you'll start showing, most people will know by now that you're pregnant and will start looking at you with that stupid smirk that only babies, kittens and pregnant people seem to elicit.

Third trimester - the end is near. Basically, you will revert back to first trimester levels of exhaustion, possible nausea and a host of new, uncomfortable symptoms. Things like swollen feet and ankles, difficulty moving, breathing, eating, etc.

My honeymoon phase started the day I took my first pregnancy test. Tuesday, February 12, 2013 to be exact. I had told myself I would wait until Valentine's Day to take a test, but I had one test left from the month before that was burning a hole in my medicine cabinet. I had a feeling that something was different. In fact, I remember waking up that morning and sitting on the edge of the bed thinking, "My whole life could change today," and it did! I was thrilled. Hubs and I had only been trying for two months and we were really lucky to get pregnant so quickly. I took the first test so early that you can barely see the second line:

February 12, 2013

Even Colin, always the realist, said that we shouldn't get our hopes up and that I should buy more tests to take the next day. So I bought 3 more and by 2am on February 13, they were much clearer. Thankyoudigitialclearblueeasy.

February 13, 2013

I sailed through the first 12 weeks with little more than a few "Ew, that doesn't seem appetizing at all," moments. I never threw up, never took a day off from work and had a nice little, barely visible bump by week 13.

 13 weeks, 3 days

The second trimester was everything all of the books and doctors and friends said it would be and more. My skin was clearer than ever, my hair was growing like weeds, my appetite was back, I was still working out every day. We found out that we were expecting a healthy baby boy and everything seemed to be going exactly as it should. I even passed the dreaded glucose test on the first try. I waited for the other shoe to drop as I neared the third trimester. 

Week 28 came and went. And so did weeks 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 and 34. People were constantly telling me how great I looked - how I only had "a little basketball" of a belly. I even wore a bikini on our beach vacation which elicited the aforementioned "aww, she's pregnant" looks from strangers. I was practically gloating to anyone who asked how I was doing that, "I still feel great!" and "I've only gained 25lbs!" I even went so far as to say, "I don't know why some of these pregnant women complain so much!"

Enter week 35. And backaches. And sleepless nights. And braxton hicks and mood swings like no other. The honeymoon is over. I'm in full-on uncomfortable mode 24/7. Here are just a few of the joyful symptoms that have reared their ugly heads this week:

Eating two bites of food and being full. Even my most favorite foods aren't as enjoyable as they once were because eating more than a few bites of anything makes me feel like the skin on my stomach is going to explode. Or I get heartburn that radiates up to my eyeballs. Or both. Silver lining: this is probably keeping me from gaining more than the recommended 25-35lbs. I'll take it.

Sleeping doesn't happen. Nor does sitting, standing or walking. They tell you when you're pregnant that you're supposed to sleep on your side. I didn't really have a problem with this as I usually did sleep on my side... until now. No matter how many pillows I use to contort my head/belly/feet into what seems like a comfortable position at first, I ultimately end up with rib or hip pain that wakes me out of a dead sleep. Which makes me realize I have to pee (again), which means I have to get up...

Getting up from a supine position, especially after an extended period of time, is not easy. Usually my back and/or hips are so stiff that I have to windmill my body so that I'm laying horizontally on the bed, drop one leg to the floor, and push off with my foot to force the rest of my body into a standing position - kind of like a seesaw. I'm sure it's fun to watch. 

I have hemorrhoids.  There. I said it. I don't even care because you know what, it or something equally uncomfortable will probably happen to you too, you unsuspecting-happy-woman-who-thinks-she-won't-get-any-weird-pregnancy-symptoms. I was once you. That kind of reminds me of this moment from The Office:

The baby gets hiccups. All.The.Time. The first time it happened - around week 22 or 23 - it was cute. Hubs and I would put our hands on my belly and feel the little blip!...blip!...blip! of his body jumping with each hiccup. Now, it's just irritating. And sometimes painful - especially if I've just eaten and my stomach feels stretched to the max.

Standing up or walking makes me feel like there is a bowling ball sitting in my pelvic bone and that the bottom is going to drop out at any second.

People start to ask you questions like, "Are you afraid of pooping on the table??" Um, no. I'm afraid my baby is going to have something wrong with him that the tests didn't catch. Or that I won't be able to feed him. Or that we won't be able to afford college or that he'll hate us or that we'll be bad parents.  Or that someday some stupid ass drunk driver is going to kill him in a car accident or that I'll lose a tremendous amount of blood during labor and my husband will have to decide which one of us to save. I would poop on the table one million, billion times if it meant avoiding any of the above scenarios. 

I know it could be worse. And I'm not complaining while I'm complaining, I still feel very lucky and very happy to be pregnant and to have had an overall, easy experience. Sometimes I still can't believe that there is a person - a whole person - growing inside me and that in a few short weeks I am going to be able to kiss his face and watch his tiny fingers curl around mine. The truth is, I would go through it all over again - even the unpleasant parts multiplied 10 times - if I knew meeting this amazing little person was the end result.