I’m 9 weeks now, so says my handy little pregnancy tracker app that I have on my phone. There really is an app for everything. There is even one to track your periods and ovulation cycles. Guess I’m a little late for that one, eh? This number may go up or down (my guess is down) depending on the ultrasound coming up next week.
Even though this is my third child, I’m much older now than I was the last time my body created a life. With that said, here is a list of some things I am experiencing now. I’m convinced my mind chose to conveniently forget that these symptoms occur during pregnancy, in some fucked up biological attempt to help preserve the human species while I was still of birthing age.
Pregnancy Fatigue: Holy shit. I’ve never been this tired in my life. I literally walk around with droopy eyes, dragging my body wherever I need it to go. First, it was at night. I’d be fine during the day, but I was dead and ready to pass out by 9pm. This week, by about the time I get to work I’m already exhausted, I’m in an exhausted fog for most of the day, and it seems to break just a bit after I get home. Which is good, so I can take care of the house and dinner and crap…but then I can’t seem to go to sleep. Don’t get me started on sleep…
Weird Ass Fucking Dreams: I dreamt the baby was a girl. That’s not odd for a pregnant lady…what’s odd is holding your baby that looks like a doll, talking to your baby telepathically (she was responding!), and asking it, “What are you?”. Of course I peeked under her blanket to see if she had a vagina after she told me she was a girl. The word crazy comes to mind.
Hormones: I am literally insane. Things annoy me and I have lost all ability to just shut my mouth and forget about it. I get overly sensitive about things that normally wouldn’t phase me. Let’s see…this week I have already gotten mad at Mike for posting a funny video on Facebook. I thought he was making fun of the fact that we fart in front of each other and was comparing me to the girl in the video. I was actually sitting at my desk at work, plotting my revenge when I finally came to my senses. I’ve also confessed to him that I get mad at his breathing. Yes. You heard that right. His breathing. How the fuck is he supposed to help that? Let’s not leave out my occasional battle with paranoia and self-deprecation. Pregnant women realize that we are crazy and believe me, we beat ourselves up about it. When we’re not hating everyone, that is.
My boobs hurt and they feel like they are getting bigger every day.
They aren’t really getting bigger every day, but seriously…achy boobs are no joke. You know you’re pregnant when the shower hitting your nipples is excruciatingly painful. Just sayin’.
Morning Sickness: Yes. I’ve got it. But I’ve got this horrible version where I’m queasy all the time. All the fucking time. No vomiting…just nausea. Saltine crackers and ginger ale are my favorite things this week.
So basically, I feel like a hung over schizophrenic chick with big ‘ol titties that has to pee a lot.
It could be much worse.