We interrupt our normally scheduled programming to make an announcement and file some complaints, for the few of you who read this that haven’t already noticed I am pregnant! (Feel free to now scroll down through my pictures and notice that my stomach conveniently isn’t really showing in any of them). I’m almost up to 18 weeks, which means that my due date is April 1st. There have been times in my life when I thought it unlikely that this would ever happen so Larry and I could not be more thrilled. We waited quite awhile to start telling people because we weren’t really sure how things would go, but about a month ago my doctor told me that she felt safe saying from that point on, a miscarriage was unlikely so now that I’m beginning to show we’re spreading our happy news.
Now for the complaints, I hate being pregnant and I feel so guilty about it. Now, I’m not insane; I know pregnancy is not glamorous, but I really thought I would be so happy about being pregnant that all that other stuff wouldn’t get to me. After years of listening to others complain about their pregnancies while I sat there silently being so envious of them, I never thought I would say this, but I hate being pregnant and just saying that makes me feel like I’m somehow already a bad mother. I’m seriously sitting at my desk starting to cry because I feel so bad about it.
I think I handled the first few months of morning sickness fairly well. When my doctor said she didn’t want to put me on medication for nausea unless I wasn’t gaining weight, it didn’t bother me at all because I kept thinking that it had to end soon. Then last week happened and one evening as I found myself throwing up for the third time, I had a bit of a breakdown and cried as I told Larry that I can’t do this for five more months and if I knew my next pregnancy would be like this, I don’t think I would have anymore kids. And this morning, as I had to pull over on the freeway and make use of a ziplock bag that I have to keep my car stocked with for just such occasions, I found myself wishing for the millionth time that I could fast forward the next five months and be done with pregnancy, because as far as I’m concerned, any morning that you have to walk into work holding a ziplock bag full of your own vomit (or anyone else’s for that matter) is not a good morning.
Larry and I used to joke that baby Ford already hates me, but at this point, it’s not funny anymore. I’m at 18 weeks people so why is this still happening?
Ok, to end on a more positive note, my ultrasound to find out what we are having is in two weeks and I cannot wait! I’m hoping that knowing what we are having will get Larry and I to start talking about names. We talked about baby names when we first got married, as many newlyweds do, and we could not agree on anything. I think we were both so traumatized by it that we haven’t really talked about it since, but more about that later. I’ll keep you posted!