Saturday, March 16, 2013

an ugly truth.

*** this post was written a couple of months ago. i feel i can share with you without causing worry, as i am in a completely different place now than what i was then.***

for those of you who know me well, it is no secret that i am no fan of pregnancy.

this blessing, the miracle of life that is growing inside of my blooming belly, and my fertility that seemingly takes only a glance across the room when i'm ready - this is a recipe for gratitude, no? and i am grateful. i'm grateful for my beautiful, healthy son and i'm grateful for my ability to create life. however, i can't help but feel guilty for my extreme repulsion to being pregnant. 

i have met plenty of women who have been pregnant, and not many of them were shy about sharing their own experiences with pregnancy when they noticed my pregnant belly the first time around. one that sticks out most to me is a woman who ooh'ed and aah'ed over my "cute belly" and how much she missed, and loved being pregnant herself. she went on to reveal that one of her pregnancies was quadruplets, and i could feel my stomach drop. it was very obvious she had a very different experience than i.. but also left me to believe that i just really suck at being pregnant.

for me, being pregnant sucks almost every ounce of happy from my veins.

the other night at dinner, my husband was making some valiant attempts to cheer me up, with little success. i had suggested to him that perhaps in some variation or form, i was depressed. "you're not depressed, you're sick," he said. to which i was quick to reply with an equally valiant effort to fight back tears, "i was sick for about 2 weeks. every day beyond that has been a struggle for happiness."

my husband is a good man. and he has been really great to me during this pregnancy. i'd argue that he's been even better with me during this pregnancy than my last. i guess that makes him a seasoned vet. he makes a run at my every desire to fetch whatever food or drink it is that i'm craving, and he is dad-on-duty far more than his share, even after a much longer day at work than me and swim practice. and that's all after i have called him in tears to pick up pizza (again) because i can't bear to cook. he is sensitive to my sensitivity, and knows to just hug me when i'm being irrational, rather than trying to reason with me. (he had to learn this. it didn't come naturally.)

he didn't argue with me. he just gave me a sympathetic smile and squeezed my hand.

i have spent more time during the last couple of months of this pregnancy crying than i have cried all year. i drag myself to work each day, and consider that a major accomplishment. bedtime is my favorite time of day, as sleeping is the only time i'm guaranteed i will not feel nauseous. but even my sleep is interrupted by frequent potty breaks in the middle of the night that have me hurrying back to bed and scrunching my eyes closed to forget that familiar nauseous feeling. to forget feeling.

what hurts the most is knowing that i'm not being the mom i need to be and that owen deserves. and my sweet little 2.5 year old boy cannot begin to understand that. "you tummy hurt, mommy?" it does, baby. my tummy and my heart hurt in the worst way. yet all i can manage to do, is heat up some mac n' cheese or oatmeal for dinner (usually alternating nights), and climb into bed to flip on cartoons until daddy gets home to take over.

since this pregnancy has disproved the hope that it could have been better the next time around, i think i'm checking out at two. i remember refusing to journal pregnancy the first time around for the sake of giving owen a sibling in the future. at 20 weeks in and still feeling nauseous, i spoke up just a bit. there is a real possibility that i may feel this way for another 2-3 months, and that's a depressing thought in and of itself.

this "morning" sickness has completely flattened me. i'm thankful pregnancy is temporary.

and i'm thankful for the tiniest speck of light at the end of this everlasting tunnel that promises an end to the way i've been feeling, and better yet, a teeny tiny human that i have only just begun to love. because i do. i already love you, and i haven't even met you... just don't ask me for another brother or sister, ok?

1 comment:

The Berg Family said...

I can so relate to this post. My pregnancy with Asher was by far worse than my pregnancy with Annika. I would love another baby, but do not ever want to be pregnant again. Good luck. As you know, it's so worth it. Much easier for me to say now that I'm not pregnant!