June 7, 2005
A pregnant woman complaining about her symptoms is like a bride complaining about wedding details as she marries the love of her life. Or a millionaire complaining that he can't decide what to do with his money.
After all, morning sickness means you are pregnant. A month ago, I would have paid money to live with my head in the toilet, if it meant a baby was on the way.
Okay, maybe those women unexpectedly pregnant deserve some sympathy: the one who just started law school, or who already has three kids under the age of five, or isn't on speaking terms with the baby's father. But I don't fall into any of those categories, and I've been yearning for a second pink line far too long to gripe about anything.
So as I describe what is happening to my body, it is more of a record than a complaint.
Marbles in My Bra
I thought I knew what it felt like to have sore boobies. I'm one of those women who has to avoid staircases the week before my period. A little achiness never hurt anyone, right?
Well, a week ago I learned what sore can really be. It feels like someone dumped a jar of marbles into my bra. Better yet, jagged rocks. In addition to the added volume which Tom noticed before I did, the slightest brush against my breasts has me whimpering. Learning how to fall asleep without lying on my stomach has been tough.
Immune System is on Vacation
Before I even knew I was pregnant, my body made way for the new parasite by lowering my immune system. This is supposed to prevent my body from rejecting the fetus.
It also prevents my body from rejecting things like colds, bronchitus, and sinus infections. Three weeks ago, my throat began to ache. "I'll get some extra sleep," I thought to myself, "and it will go away as usual." A couple of days later, I could hardly breathe for all my congestion. A week later, I couldn't laugh without sputtering into a hacking, mucus-filled cough. Here I am two weeks later taking antibiotics for a sinus infection.
I can't remember the last time I was sick, not to mention with an infection big enough for antibiotics.
What Did I Do Last Night?
Smack in the middle of my sinus infection, morning sickness hops on board. It hasn't been too bad. So far the only thing I've tossed is a popsicle. But I carry with me a constant queasiness. I feel... hungover.
Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!
As somewhat of a health nut, I'd prided myself in advance for what a great eater I'd be while pregnant. No refined sugars, no simple carbohydrates-- just my locally-made bread with a slew of vegetables and the occasional chicken dish.
Yet my whole grain bread seems suddenly too dense. I cringe at the thought of meat or vegetables. All I want is white bread, pasta, potatoes, and sugar cereal. As someone who believes that the body tells you what it needs, I'm confused by these cravings. So I googled "vegetable aversion pregnancy" and found I'm not alone. Interesting reading, actually.
At any rate, I've decided that right now eating whatever I can stomach is okay. Last night, I had an overwhelming desire to eat Cocoa Puffs. Overwhelming. Off to the store I went for the sugar bombs.
I hardly recognize myself.
Showing posts with label pregnancy symptoms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy symptoms. Show all posts
Monday, April 9, 2007
One Foot in the Loony Bin (Wk 5 PREGNANCY)
May 30, 2005
"If I can just get pregnant, I will never worry about anything ever again. I will simply be grateful for the miracle of sperm meeting egg."
When I made that promise to myself, I truly meant it. Reall.y But what is my new promise?
"If I can just not miscarry, I will never worry about anything ever again. I will simply be grateful for the miracle of giving birth to a healthy baby."
I mean, who worries when her baby gets his first fever? Stays with a sitter for the first time? Goes on a first date? Moves out? Not me, surely!
Pandora's Box of Anxiety
I spent close to a year with the lingering fear that Tom and I would be unable to get pregnant. One minute I was certain that I had endometriosis. The next minute, it was a low thyroid. Or perhaps the abdominal surgery I had as an infant had led to scar tissue blocking my tubes. Better yet, hostile mucus-- a rare disorder that would lead to my cervical fluid taking up arms against Tom's sperm.
Hello, my name is Martha, and I am a worrier.
For real-- I 've been diagnosed and everything. Several years ago I went through a long phase of insomnia. Finally, I went to a therapist who told me I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder.
Well, duh.
Actually, it was helpful to hear it from a professional. So my worry was beyond the pale. After six months of counseling-- getting to the root of the problem, learning some coping methods, having some Oprah moments-- I could lie down at night and fall asleep like an ordinary person.
When I began this journey toward motherhood, I should have realized that my anxiety would reawaken. Not from the time I became pregnant, mind you-- I mean that from the time I decided that I wanted a baby in my near future, my dearest desires have been on the line.
A Word from Yoda
After nights of tossing and turning, falling asleep only to dream of miscarriage, the time came for me to heed the advice of Yoda. "Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to the Dark Side. Mmmmmmmmm." (Well, I guess Jesus had a thing or two to say about that, but the recently released Star Wars is on my mind.)
Fear has been robbing from me the joy of being of pregnant. Conception is a miracle. Some couples will never experience it. Others will only after years of trying, still others only after medical intervention. . For me to spend this first trimest in fear would be squandering the gift I've been given. Whatever happens tomorrow, today I have a life growing inside of me. Today I am a mother. (Update: I might add that no one is fully a mother until the day her baby starts solids and she changes a diaper with real poo.)
And what would I gain from the worry? Would worry before a miscarriage make me any less devastated if one did happen?
So during this vulnerable time, my dreams on the line, I'll have to be vigilant. Capture those anxious thoughts as soon as they come! Journal. Pray. Share my struggles with Tom, whose own "Big M" fear is not miscarriage but money (I'm sure no other fathers-to-be worry about that.)
I'm spending more time on my knees than a cloistered nun.
Belly Pic, Week5:
"If I can just get pregnant, I will never worry about anything ever again. I will simply be grateful for the miracle of sperm meeting egg."
When I made that promise to myself, I truly meant it. Reall.y But what is my new promise?
"If I can just not miscarry, I will never worry about anything ever again. I will simply be grateful for the miracle of giving birth to a healthy baby."
I mean, who worries when her baby gets his first fever? Stays with a sitter for the first time? Goes on a first date? Moves out? Not me, surely!
Pandora's Box of Anxiety
I spent close to a year with the lingering fear that Tom and I would be unable to get pregnant. One minute I was certain that I had endometriosis. The next minute, it was a low thyroid. Or perhaps the abdominal surgery I had as an infant had led to scar tissue blocking my tubes. Better yet, hostile mucus-- a rare disorder that would lead to my cervical fluid taking up arms against Tom's sperm.
Hello, my name is Martha, and I am a worrier.
For real-- I 've been diagnosed and everything. Several years ago I went through a long phase of insomnia. Finally, I went to a therapist who told me I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder.
Well, duh.
Actually, it was helpful to hear it from a professional. So my worry was beyond the pale. After six months of counseling-- getting to the root of the problem, learning some coping methods, having some Oprah moments-- I could lie down at night and fall asleep like an ordinary person.
When I began this journey toward motherhood, I should have realized that my anxiety would reawaken. Not from the time I became pregnant, mind you-- I mean that from the time I decided that I wanted a baby in my near future, my dearest desires have been on the line.
A Word from Yoda
After nights of tossing and turning, falling asleep only to dream of miscarriage, the time came for me to heed the advice of Yoda. "Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to the Dark Side. Mmmmmmmmm." (Well, I guess Jesus had a thing or two to say about that, but the recently released Star Wars is on my mind.)
Fear has been robbing from me the joy of being of pregnant. Conception is a miracle. Some couples will never experience it. Others will only after years of trying, still others only after medical intervention. . For me to spend this first trimest in fear would be squandering the gift I've been given. Whatever happens tomorrow, today I have a life growing inside of me. Today I am a mother. (Update: I might add that no one is fully a mother until the day her baby starts solids and she changes a diaper with real poo.)
And what would I gain from the worry? Would worry before a miscarriage make me any less devastated if one did happen?
So during this vulnerable time, my dreams on the line, I'll have to be vigilant. Capture those anxious thoughts as soon as they come! Journal. Pray. Share my struggles with Tom, whose own "Big M" fear is not miscarriage but money (I'm sure no other fathers-to-be worry about that.)
I'm spending more time on my knees than a cloistered nun.
Belly Pic, Week5:
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