torsdag den 2. februar 2012

Hello. I'm the Disgruntled Preggo.

Hello there, darlings. You can call me the Disgruntled Preggo. At the moment, I'm 14 weeks and change pregnant, and it's been rather hellacious. It's not flowers, puppies and being in touch with my inner woman. Hell. No. It's been hell on toast. And you know what? Sometimes I just want to complain about it. I'm sick of burdening my husband with my grumpitude, so instead I'm going public, baby. I'm taking it to the interwebs.

So am I being melodramatic, you may say? No. Let's start from the beginning. Since this little wonder - which *is* actually kind of cool - entered my belleh, I've been throwing up. Not the way normal women throw up, oh no. A good day for me is under 10 times. A normal day? 12-15. A bad day - and there have been several of them - sees me throwing up around 20 times. I'm finally on pills for it, which makes most days in the "good-to-normal" range, but it's still bloody annoying.

Another thing they don't tell you? It's not about the food cravings. Oh no. I wish I had cravings. For me, it's all about food aversion. Picture this: your body slowly starts rejecting all food that is healthy, tasty and good. The mere sight of your favorite foods makes you nauseous. You try to eat everything the doctor tells you to - small, carbohydrate-rich meals, lots of fruit and veg, lean protein - and everytime you do, you end up with your head in the toilet. Coffee addiction? Forget it. Tea as a substitute? Don't make me laugh. Coca-Cola? Nope. No caffeine. No chocolate - which was fine, as I'm one of those women who prefers glorious cheese to chocolate. But then, cruel twist of fate, my favorite cheese start making me retch. I'm down to gouda and, on occasion, cream cheese, but even those are a bit suspect.

And to add insult to injury, my perfectly normal and delightful boobs have been inflated to cartoonish proportions. Pre-pregnancy, I was a nice 34C/D - just big enough, thankyouverymuch. Now, the homonculus in my belly has made them grow to near F-sized levels. And did I mention I'm 14 weeks in? My boobs of doom shredded - yes, SHREDDED - a size medium happy organic cotton pregnancy bra.

Don't get me wrong. There are days when I'm thrilled to be pregnant. I love my husband dearly and the idea of creating a baby with him is thrilling and wonderful. But fuck, does the process of having a baby REALLY have to be so irritating?

/Disgruntled Preggo