Here’s something you should never do- listen to a word your older sister says.
She is full of it.
I should have known better, but because her first pregnancy had been terrible like my own, and in many of the same ways, I was lured into believing her assurances regarding my second. Look to your mother or your sister, is a common suggestion when wondering about your own pregnancies, periods, menopause etc.. and with few exceptions our experiences with most of these feminine issues had been fairly identical. Still, I should have known, I mean, she was the one who told me not to worry about sleep deprivation with my first infant because I would be too excited and full of joyful adrenaline to feel tired.
Are you f**king kidding me?
And I bought that crap!
So, I should have known that when she assured me that caring for my rambunctious son would lessen the impact and the length of my first trimester misery, I went with it. It sounded good and I really needed to believe that I wouldn’t suffer the same sixteen week sentence.
HA! A big, fat HA.
I can’t blame Jen though, I know myself, and I knew that I’m not good at *ignoring* my gloom. I’ve always been amazed at those people who insist that focusing on work, for example, helped them keep their mind off of a major upheaval in their lives.
I’ll never forget this one coworker, Nancy, whose husband of TWENTY FIVE years left her, and I mean up and left her, out of nowhere. He didn’t just leave her though, he had apparently been seeing the woman he was leaving her for, for MOST of their entire marriage AND he had forged Nancy’s name and stole money and etc, etc. It was crazy. Nancy didn’t miss one single day of work, not one. She kept her head down, was hyper-focused on the job and claimed that it helped. I wanted to take a personal day just from hearing her story! Me? I need to wallow in the anguish, alone, on my couch, staring at the ceiling, bemoaning.
Here’s what you can not do when you are very sick and have a two and half year old.. be alone or lay on the couch. Not continuously. Bemoan you can do, but never alone, and for me, that just heightened the bemoanment. That is not a word.
Oh God, it was so awful. Many of you have been there and I know you know. The days were a sickening blur of nausea and fatigue, just clicking off the hours, one down, two down, three.. I spent most of my time contemplating sawing off my own head.
The TV stayed on all damn day. I laid on the couch in 5 to 10 minute shifts, punctuated by Luka’s incessant needs. This sweet child was fed a handful of pretzels for lunch more times than I want to remember. I’d drop them on his table and slunk back to my lair, nauseated by the smell of pretzels, by all the smells of everything I’d passed on the way to and from the couch, and lay back down and think about sawing off my head.
I tried all the meds and none of them worked. Not even for 15 minutes. There were several tearful breakdowns. I was unwashed and sweaty. Thinking about brushing my teeth made me gag- actually brushing them? Why would I do that to myself?
There was copious guilt. I did nothing more than feed and change Luka for two solid months. Other then assuring his basic safety, I was completely absent as a mother and I hated myself for it.
Someone suggested to me that since there was clearly nothing I could do about it, I just needed to ” tough it out”. That person is still married to me, but very lucky to still have his head attached to his body.
I’m not even going to bother with the whole, it’s all worth it, blah, blah, thhhhppppt! Of course it is, that should go with out saying. What will not go without saying is, I reeeeeeaaaallllly don’t like being pregnant and I refuse to pretend otherwise.
If I decide to have a third child, it will be through adoption or a surrogate. I totally mean it. I will never be pregnant again. As they say, motherhood isn’t for every woman. Neither is pregnancy.