Day 455 - The Pregnancy Diaries

By the time you're reading this, I'll have written it about three months ago. The first trimester is something that Anthem and I are keeping for close family and friends. But I want to document it, for me. For us. For our child. So I'm just writing down all the things that have happened the last week and a half.

Sept 13: Anthem and I find out we're pregnant. And I take 3 tests just to make sure. 

Sept 14-15: We tell our family and listen to many women scream in gleeful excitement. It's incredibly encouraging, and very emotionally draining. 

Sept 16: I get hired at my new job, and have a doctor's appointment to confirm pregnancy. 

Sept 17: Morning sickness and extreme fatigue kick in. 

Sept 22: The couple we asked to be our child's godparents accepted. 

So we're at September 24th right now, and I love the baby growing inside me. I love learning about it, and planning with Anthem. I love that Anthem talks to the baby already. I love that Anthem is so incredibly kind, considerate, and helpful.

I hate pregnancy. I loathe everything about it. I hate being sick all the time. I hate dry heaving in the morning because there is nothing in my stomach to throw up. I hate feeling like I'm going to lose what little I was able to eat whenever I get tired, and I am tired all the time. I hate being tired all the time and asking James to do every single thing around the house because I just can't get up. I hate going to bed at 8pm every night because I'm exhausted. I hate that my boobs are so sensitive, they hurt if the wind blows them wrong. I hate the headaches. I hate the constant emotions that make me want to cry. 

Like when our dear friends agreed to be the godparents of our new child. I about burst into tears. Or when I couldn't keep dinner down and burst into tears. Or when Anthem texts me to tell our baby that he loves it and I burst into tears because knowing Anthem is going to be the greatest father I could possibly imagine and nothing moves me more than knowing that my children will be so loved and cared for by their father. By my husband. Whose life has already changed due to their tiny little appearance. 

I mean good tears. But lots of them.

The bottom line is that it's nothing like what I expected. I love Haven, but I'm not crazy about what that little one is doing to my body, my hormones, or my energy levels. Puking up dinner doesn't make the miracle of life any less miraculous. It just makes it a bit more... human.

Let me finish with this statement: I'm never whining about periods ever again.