I might have made previous mention that I suck at being pregnant. I probably said it in passing, or made some joke about beached whales and trying to roll out of bed, or maybe I even named a blog category after this sad fact.
I suck at being pregnant so much that I cannot believe anyone who “glows” or whatever is doing anything other than trying to feed me a line of BS. Or to make me feel bad about myself for being such a whiny baby.
Pregnancy #1: Benjamin.
Was knocked up by complete accident at age 20, the same age when no one believes that you have enough of a brain stem to care for a child. The jury is still out on that one, but Ben is still alive and kicking.
This pregnancy was particularly sucky because of all the OTHER shit going on around me.
Take 1 asshole boyfriend who runs and hides his penis in other women when the going gets rough, add 1 mentally-ill mother who is convinced that you’re going to give the baby up for adoption that she asks your brother to take him if you freak out and you have a recipe for disaster. An appetite for destruction if I may (and I always may).
Physically, I was fine when I was pregnant aside from swelling up to the size and approximate shape of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man (it was August, man). The only symptom that I had was that I was chronically exhausted, so exhausted that I would sleep 16-18 hours a day.
Pregnancy #2: Alexander
After years of assuming uber-fertility, was astonished when I didn’t get easily knocked up. Apparently you’re more fertile when you’re young and stupid.
Upon being knocked up, became violently ill 24-7. Puked my brains out all day, every day and eventually had to quit my job, as I couldn’t drive 45 minutes in the car while puking. Ended up so depressed that my ever-widening ass made many dents in my couch. May have even worn some of the fabric off.
Was also incredibly paranoid of losing the baby. Worried like it was my job, made matters much worse.
Which brings us to…
Pregnancy #3: Link (aka Sausagebryo)
Pretty much remove the emotional issues, and you have my current pregnancy. I’m unbelievably exhausted, nauseous (but without the vomiting), and just sick. I have no energy for unloading the dishwasher, let alone trying to spend Quality Time with the kids (unless you count turning the TV to Noggin as QT, which of course, I do).
Between this and the spotting, my poor husband may not get laid again for many years.
I suppose that the upside of down here is that I’m finally feeling a bit more relaxed about the Link. I spot occasionally, but I’m fairly sure it’s related to the suppositories (oh, the joy of those bitches), so I’ve relaxed a bit. Between the intense sickness and the ever expanding poo-baby taking up residence in my gut (when someone tells you that they show earlier with subsequent babies, BELIEVE THEM. Especially when they haven’t shat in 3 days.), I’m more calm than I’ve been.
Until, of course, my US on Wednesday in which I will be reduced to a blubbering mess.