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Posts Tagged ‘Nausea’

In case you’re curious (like I was, before being pregnant), here is a description of what it’s been like for me:

From weeks 6 to 18, I felt nauseated all.the.time.  It never stopped.  It was worse if I didn’t eat, so I tried to snack every 2 hours religiously, but even snacking only reduced my nausea.  I would get up in the middle of the night to throw up, which felt unfair because of course I couldn’t eat while I was sleeping.  My body didn’t seem to care about how unreasonable that demand was. My doctor finally prescribed anti-nausea medicine to take at night, and the nurses at the clinic made me feel like shit for taking it, because of course pregnant women should not take any medicine – I should just be stronger.  And get out of bed at night to vomit, and somehow be able to drive my sleep-deprived self to work on the highway without any caffeine in the morning five days a week.

I had a very poignant image during that time period of some kind of hunt being chased by fey or faeries.  I saw myself as the hapless human with these merciless, beautiful people riding me down in the woods like a fox.  I was running and stumbling and knew I couldn’t stop or they would get me, but knowing I could run to death and they would not stop pursuing me.  Pregnancy was like that – this supernatural phenomenon that was beautiful and cruel and chasing me down, and there was no escape.  Sometimes I would daydream about how much money I would pay people not to feel like vomiting for a few minutes.  I was so tired and the nausea just wouldn’t stop.

My skin looked awful, and the worst part was that people would make mean comments to me.  At work, people would ask me all the time why my skin was so bad – was that because of the pregnancy?  They had never seen my face so broken out.  (Gee, thanks.)  My mother-in-law and the other Peruvian women around us kept telling me to go to the doctor and get medicine because there was something wrong with me – my face was not normal and I should be given drugs.  I had talked to my doctor, and was trying so hard not to use prescriptions if I didn’t have to.  Have PCOS means that your acne is pretty much always bad, unless you taking strong drugs for it – drugs that are bad for fetuses.  I got tired of explaining this to well-meaning people, and just internalized the feeling that I was unacceptably ugly.

I felt bad at being pregnant, like I was a failure.  Other women loved pregnancy, and for me it was like trying to love the most unremitting flu I had ever had.  I agonized that my baby would be able to feel this unhappiness in me, and that she would feel unwelcome.  Maybe I would have a miscarriage because the baby would think I didn’t want her and it would be my fault.

The way my anxiety manifests itself, I like to be able to exert control over my life.  If I can just get things in order, and control the small details, everything will be okay.  But everything happening to my body was very out of my control.  I was gaining weight and break out and vomiting, and I couldn’t stop any of it.  Most people didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to say anything to them because they would think I didn’t want my baby (which we had tried so hard to have), and they would think there was something wrong with me.

I remember one night being awake after my husband had fallen asleep and sitting out in the dark at the dining room table and just weeping.  I called my mom – the one who I always have such a tumultuous relationship with – and miraculously, she was there for me as a mother should be there for her daughter that night.  She confessed to me that she had never been as unhappy as she was while pregnant, and that I wasn’t broken or a failure, and that I would still love my baby, and that she was sorry she had never told me.

The truth is that I was doing something really hard.  I was pregnant while having chronic fatigue syndrome, and still working 5 days a week without missing work and without the benefit of caffeine.  I was pregnant while having depression and anxiety, but having no medicine to help me through it.

The first trimester was the hardest part, but I still struggle a lot with being fat and pregnant, and seeming to have the worst acne ever.  I felt the baby move for the first time at 16 weeks, and my nausea stopped at 18 weeks.   That first movement felt like a little tap, and came while we were watching the Walking Dead (true story).  As the baby got bigger, I could feel her movements more easily until people could feel them from the outside as well.  Now that I’m 8 months pregnant, it’s fun because it’s almost like I can interact with her.  She startles at loud noises and if I jiggle my belly up and down, or press where she is, she’ll kick.  It’s amazing to realize that in some way, I’m playing with her even though she hasn’t been born.  She hears my voice and my husband’s voice, and seems to have preferences.  (She hates when I lie on my back even for just a minute or so – she kicks a lot.  I think it squishes her.)

Once she started moving, she became more real to me.  It helped that I wasn’t vomiting anymore.  Now the hardest thing for me to fathom is actually meeting her in a few weeks.  I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of how irrevocably our life is going to change.  We will no longer be just 2 people – we will be a family of 3 people.  I know everything will be different, but it doesn’t seem real to me exactly how different it will be.

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