Pregnancy: Part 2, the first 18 weeks

After coming off my high of finding out and being able to tell people that I was pregnant I experienced a whole new feeling. Morning sickness, the biggest misnomer known to man. I was so sick. All day, every day for weeks upon weeks.

Part of my sickness I attributed to the progesterone that I had to take until the end of my trimester, for a total of eight weeks. I was wrong, after the end of my first tri, the end of the medicine, I was still so sick. I couldn't keep anything down before breakfast, and was lucky to keep food down after lunch. I spent every evening and every weekend for three weeks lying on the couch, trying to keep food down. It was miserable. I would never ever wish that upon anyone. It was so bad that even though I had told half of my family and friends that I was pregnant, I stopped telling people. I'm pretty sure that ended up making some people upset but I couldn't tell people I was pregnant any more. When you tell someone this kind of news, especially after waiting for it, they expect that you will be elated, joyous, so happy for the chance to be a mother. The probably was, I wasn't happy. I felt extremely blessed to be pregnant, and I thanked God every day that I got to have another day with my child, but I was so miserable that my response was always something not far from cynical.

While I laid in bed at night, I would pray and ask God to hold me in hand and keep the nausea away long enough for me to fall asleep. I would ask our Blessed Mother to pray for me. She had been here before and knows the woes of pregnancy. I would ask for her to please please put her mantel of protection around me, just so I could rest. At times, I felt like my grandfather who passed away 27 years ago when I was two years old, was standing there beside my bed, holding my hand so that I could be at ease enough to sleep. For this time, I am extremely thankful. At was so sick during the day, but somehow I still managed to sleep well at night, even though it always seemed impossible.

At my six week appointment I asked my doctor for some medicine to help and he told me he would give it to me if I had to have it, but I could tell he would prefer if I didn't take it. After I threw up on myself while driving on the way home from work one day, I immediately called my doctor and asked them to call in the prescription. I got it that same night. After that first pill I titled my medication, Zofran: the miracle drug. The first day I took it I felt like I new person. I had energy, I didn't feel sick at all. I actually ate three meals. The next day, however, the medicine didn't seem to work as well. I didn't throw up but I still felt nauseous, and that has pretty much described the rest of my pregnancy. I have good days here and there and I have really bad days about once a week or so. I would say over all though, I feel so lucky not have other complications that I'll take the nausea. It has become that I am either used to it, or it is manageable now.

I do still have days like yesterday. I had not slept in two days, and I think that sleep deprivation aggravated my sickness. I get so hungry that I am nauseous and so nauseous that I don't feel like I can eat anything. After two days of this I broke down yesterday morning and cried. Cried for 15 minutes because this wasn't fair. Why couldn't I be one of the people who felt so much better after 12, 13, 15, 16 weeks? Why couldn't I have a day off. Of course today, I am back to normal: nauseous but able to eat and manageable. Back to being thankful for the good days.