Ahhh, the end of the first trimester. It used to seem like it would never come around and now it is here. Where did the time go? Oh yes, that's right, I spent it puking!

Everyone says you forget how terrible the morning sickness was, otherwise you'd never (willingly) end up pregnant again, but even though it has been a week since I have thrown up, the memory is still fresh and haunting. I lay in bed every morning staring at the ceiling and willing myself to throw my leg over the side and sit up, so afraid that I will do so and my stomach will leap into my throat. But for the last week I have made it peacefully from laying to standing without major incident. Almost as bad as morning sickness is the fear of the RETURN of morning sickness!

Some of my co-workers have said that they never felt nauseous, and I think "How can you not feel nauseous? That's what pregnancy FEELS like!" The two terms seem synonymous by this point and I can't imagine one without the other. Love and marriage, horse and carriage...you know. If I do find that 'sudden return of energy' that many women talk about, I can tell you I will be the most excited woman ever! Never again (ha) will I complain about doing dishes or vacuuming, or shopping at the mall. I miss any and all normal daily activities... and I am sure my husband misses my participation in our life. He was going to his parents house the other night after work, to pick up some things and say hello, and I told him that I wanted to go too (I tell him this as I am laying in my pajamas, snuggled into our bed at 6:30 in the evening) but the closer he came to departure, the more I realized that the car sounded like a pretty uncertain place to be and perhaps I should stay as is, close to my pillow and within leap of the bathroom toilet.

At almost three months, 126lbs, and a negative weight gain of 6lbs, everyone keeps telling me that I should be showing by now. I try to explain that it is normal for a first time mom to not 'pop' until up to 5 months, but no one seems to find consolation in my reassurance or the fact that it is my body and I might know what is going on with it. They make me feel like the most dysfunctional, incapable, incubator ever to have carried a child. Yes, my stomach is still relatively flat, but I promise, there is a baby in there and it is growing. When a friend insists that "Oh, no! EVERYONE shows by three months!" I want to lie for the pure shock value-"Well, I've been dieting, trying to lose a few pounds, keep the stretch marks at bay- that's probably why I look so small." Perhaps sarcasm will teach them to keep their mouths shut.

Although morning sickness has kicked my butt, I was trying to think the other day of what I am thankful for pregnancy-wise. I am thankful that my skin hasn't turned on me, that I haven't gained/lost an unhealthy amount of weight, that the baby is safe and growing, that I have good health insurance and that I have a husband that is supporting and loving me throughout this hard time. I know of so many people that have it harder than I do and I want to remember some of the positive things that I can count as blessings. Colin and I may not know where we are going to live, or whether or not I will continue working, or how we will both finish school, but we do have somewhere to live right now, and we are both employed by relatively good companies, with good benefits and we have parents who are willing to help make our goal of graduating a possibility. For this, I am so thankful.

The last two weekends I have had obligations to fulfill and had hoped desperately to reserve this weekend for relaxation and recuperation from a hellacious week at work and from the remnants of a sinus/bronchial infection, but now I have a funeral to attend Saturday with a gathering afterward. I want more than anything to pay my respects to the family (I didn't know the deceased) but fear that if I don't stop over-exerting myself, I'm never going to get better. The animal rescue organization that I volunteer for has been overburdened with the number of animals we are trying to save and has therefore been putting the pressure on us to step up our involvement. Normally I would fully understand their endless guilt trips, and I would want more than anything to help in anyway I could, but I have explained my situation and asked that they understand if I cannot perform duties to the extent that I have in the past. I've spent more than a few evenings (after a full day of work) over the last two weeks transporting animals from shelters to hospitals and hospitals to foster homes and I am beginning to wear down.

If I don't return to some semblance of my former self soon, I fear my whole world will implode and my dear husband, in the center of it, will completely fall apart. He has thus far held together like a champ, taking care of me and keeping the house in one piece without much complaint, but I fear he is coming to the end of his rope. It has always been hard for him to handle when he sees me sick or injured, and the last two months have been no exception. Over the past two weeks his spirits have begun to slump and he has a little black rain cloud hovering over his head. The morale of the troops is getting low. I know he has terrible cabin fever, it is vital for him to be active and stimulated at all times and over the last few months the most interesting activity I can offer him is an edge-of-your-seat game of Scrabble on an otherwise uneventful Saturday night.

It would be hard for any one person to take on the entire load of household duties and taking care of an ailing spouse. Since the beginning of this week I have watched him grow more agitated and increasingly sensitive. Last night as we were getting ready for bed, he threw a full fledged fit when he discovered I had thrown out his kitchen scrub sponges. I tried to explain that I could smell mildew throughout the kitchen and had planned on buying a replacement but had simply forgotten. He stared at me and said I didn't respect him 'as a valuable member of the kitchen team' (which I guess consists of him and me), accused me of not respecting his 'cleaning tools', and decided to stay up and watch TV (and do who knows what else) instead of coming to bed with his plotting and scheming wife. I found myself laughing a little at his dramatic perspective but know that it is only a result of him being over-worked and under-compensated. If I don't relieve him from the stress soon, I'm afraid he'll crack!PregnancyAndBaby.com


recommended for you