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Anyone who tells you that being pregnant is the most wonderful, joyous, rainbow out the rear shooting experience in your entire life is a lying liar who lies.
I'm nearly positive (Hopeful, at least.) that the end result is a good thing for the ladies who want the babies, and that there is probably a fairly large chance that having the kid come out and be in your arms and gurgling at you all drooly and cute and OMG what is that smell, oh how sweet, junior had his first poo, and all that results in some sort of brain chemical mind altering thing that makes mommies forget or gloss over all the horrors of pregnancy. New mommies might still remember, but they've got that glow of new baby going on, and later mommies seem to have spent so long considering the miracle of junior and what college she'll be getting a full ride at that the aches and pains and barfing of pregnancy aren't really that important anymore.
Well, that's all well and good for them, but I don't have what will probably be one of the cutest ugly babies in the planet drooling in my arms and a large amount of happy-no-pain drugs in my system and I am here to say that being pregnant sucks.
A lot.
Don't get me wrong, I chose to do this. Well, the actual being pregnant part was a bit of a surprise, but after that I totally chose to keep the little parasite (as Captain and I affectionately call the little one, but not in public because some people have NO sense of humor) knowing full well that doing so was going to play havoc with my health. I firmly mostly hopefully believe that the end result will be totally worth it for Captain and I, and there will be a small being that I can introduce to the worlds of Harry Potter and the Princess Bride and furry animals at the zoo and (someday far far down the road) zombie evacuation plans.
However, in the meantime, I've got morning sickness so bad there are days where I can't even make it from the bed to the bathroom (thank goodness for having a designated barf bowl in the house), doctor's appointments every week or sometimes two or three a week, the random mysterious infection brought on by a slightly compromised immune system, pills and pills and more pills twice a day for the health of the baby and myself, people telling me what to eat, other people telling me not to eat the things the first people told me to eat and yet not offering any alternatives so I'm stuck with like three things on the planet I'm pretty sure I won't get yelled at if I eat, mysterious weight loss, a baby that seems to enjoy pinching off nerves in my back making it nearly impossible to walk or sleep on some days, and now I get to inject myself with insulin several times a day!
Yep, that's right, needles. In my thigh. Multiple times a day.
If you know me at all you know I fear the needles and the pain and my blood. Like cold shakes and puking fear. But, for the baby, I am somewhat reluctantly willing to force myself into slooooowwwwly pushing a needle into my skin and injecting something that makes my thigh feel off and weird and sort of burny for hours. Captain, bless him, came to the class to learn how to do the shot with me, and he's volunteered to give me the two regular shots a day if I want, but I'm also supposed to be doing "emergency" injections when my three times a day spot checks of my blood sugar are above 130 and there is no way he can drive home from work in the middle of the day to shoot me up after lunch.
Oh, and those emergency injections? They mean that I have to cart a small cooler of insulin around with me when I leave the house for more than a few hours (and I know I'll be eating at some point). Bad enough doing it at my kitchen table, but in the car or - shudder - a public bathroom? I know Type I diabetics deal with insulin their entire lives and they probably don't whine about this nearly as much as I am, but this is scaring the living crude out of me and I don't wanna. I don't.
If it was just for me and there was no parasite to consider, I'm not sure if I could bring myself to do it.
Anyway, I totally feel guilty about whining about being pregnant. As I said, I chose to do this. Millions and millions of women have done this before me, most without the modern medical care that I'm getting (including my brand new please-don't-let-me-throw-up-anymore pills that sort of almost work but not) and they managed just fine for the most part. If all those other women can do it, why can't I? I keep imagining some stout farmer woman just popping a squat in a field and having a midget and then moving on with the planting, and then there is me curled up in bed crying because my legs hurt and I feel barfy and I don't want to do this anymore and why can't Captain make it stop?
Still, that moment when you see the little bugger waving a little foot stump/flipper and hear the heartbeat? For just a minute, maybe two at the most, it is so easy to forget every negative thing about being pregnant and just grin like an idiot and grip the SO's hand so hard because there it is, the reason I've been willingly allowing all these horrible things to happen to my body and it's awe inspiring.
Then the sonogram ends and I've got a belly covered in slime and the legs still hurt and I'm pretty sure if I don't eat something like OMG now I'm going to hurl in the elevator on the way out of the hospital and the world is back to normal.
Anyway, I just needed to vent and I know babies (and baby gestating) are not some people's thing so that's why I put a warning in my header. I'm really going to try to make an effort not to spend every single post for the next six or seven months talking about being sick or the baby because I am more than just a whiny incubator, but I'm also a pretty boring person so... yeah.
I'm nearly positive (Hopeful, at least.) that the end result is a good thing for the ladies who want the babies, and that there is probably a fairly large chance that having the kid come out and be in your arms and gurgling at you all drooly and cute and OMG what is that smell, oh how sweet, junior had his first poo, and all that results in some sort of brain chemical mind altering thing that makes mommies forget or gloss over all the horrors of pregnancy. New mommies might still remember, but they've got that glow of new baby going on, and later mommies seem to have spent so long considering the miracle of junior and what college she'll be getting a full ride at that the aches and pains and barfing of pregnancy aren't really that important anymore.
Well, that's all well and good for them, but I don't have what will probably be one of the cutest ugly babies in the planet drooling in my arms and a large amount of happy-no-pain drugs in my system and I am here to say that being pregnant sucks.
A lot.
Don't get me wrong, I chose to do this. Well, the actual being pregnant part was a bit of a surprise, but after that I totally chose to keep the little parasite (as Captain and I affectionately call the little one, but not in public because some people have NO sense of humor) knowing full well that doing so was going to play havoc with my health. I firmly mostly hopefully believe that the end result will be totally worth it for Captain and I, and there will be a small being that I can introduce to the worlds of Harry Potter and the Princess Bride and furry animals at the zoo and (someday far far down the road) zombie evacuation plans.
However, in the meantime, I've got morning sickness so bad there are days where I can't even make it from the bed to the bathroom (thank goodness for having a designated barf bowl in the house), doctor's appointments every week or sometimes two or three a week, the random mysterious infection brought on by a slightly compromised immune system, pills and pills and more pills twice a day for the health of the baby and myself, people telling me what to eat, other people telling me not to eat the things the first people told me to eat and yet not offering any alternatives so I'm stuck with like three things on the planet I'm pretty sure I won't get yelled at if I eat, mysterious weight loss, a baby that seems to enjoy pinching off nerves in my back making it nearly impossible to walk or sleep on some days, and now I get to inject myself with insulin several times a day!
Yep, that's right, needles. In my thigh. Multiple times a day.
If you know me at all you know I fear the needles and the pain and my blood. Like cold shakes and puking fear. But, for the baby, I am somewhat reluctantly willing to force myself into slooooowwwwly pushing a needle into my skin and injecting something that makes my thigh feel off and weird and sort of burny for hours. Captain, bless him, came to the class to learn how to do the shot with me, and he's volunteered to give me the two regular shots a day if I want, but I'm also supposed to be doing "emergency" injections when my three times a day spot checks of my blood sugar are above 130 and there is no way he can drive home from work in the middle of the day to shoot me up after lunch.
Oh, and those emergency injections? They mean that I have to cart a small cooler of insulin around with me when I leave the house for more than a few hours (and I know I'll be eating at some point). Bad enough doing it at my kitchen table, but in the car or - shudder - a public bathroom? I know Type I diabetics deal with insulin their entire lives and they probably don't whine about this nearly as much as I am, but this is scaring the living crude out of me and I don't wanna. I don't.
If it was just for me and there was no parasite to consider, I'm not sure if I could bring myself to do it.
Anyway, I totally feel guilty about whining about being pregnant. As I said, I chose to do this. Millions and millions of women have done this before me, most without the modern medical care that I'm getting (including my brand new please-don't-let-me-throw-up-anymore pills that sort of almost work but not) and they managed just fine for the most part. If all those other women can do it, why can't I? I keep imagining some stout farmer woman just popping a squat in a field and having a midget and then moving on with the planting, and then there is me curled up in bed crying because my legs hurt and I feel barfy and I don't want to do this anymore and why can't Captain make it stop?
Still, that moment when you see the little bugger waving a little foot stump/flipper and hear the heartbeat? For just a minute, maybe two at the most, it is so easy to forget every negative thing about being pregnant and just grin like an idiot and grip the SO's hand so hard because there it is, the reason I've been willingly allowing all these horrible things to happen to my body and it's awe inspiring.
Then the sonogram ends and I've got a belly covered in slime and the legs still hurt and I'm pretty sure if I don't eat something like OMG now I'm going to hurl in the elevator on the way out of the hospital and the world is back to normal.
Anyway, I just needed to vent and I know babies (and baby gestating) are not some people's thing so that's why I put a warning in my header. I'm really going to try to make an effort not to spend every single post for the next six or seven months talking about being sick or the baby because I am more than just a whiny incubator, but I'm also a pretty boring person so... yeah.