Is it just me or is there a certain irony to being pregnant? Pregnancy is this beautiful and precious thing that is to be cherished and loved. I am bringing a child into this world. Depending on what you believe, this child may seen as the ultimate in divine gifts. I am special for being able to do this three times and my biggest worry is for the pregnancy to not be perfect. There are so many who are unable to feel the amazement of her own biological child grow in their womb. Feeling and experiencing pregnancy makes you privileged. Pregnancy is awe inspiring and magical.
Is it just me or does it feel quite the opposite sometimes? I was just about to write "women," but the truth is some women have great pregnancies. Some are almost unaffected by the overall process. This woman is thoroughly affected. I do not do well overtired and I'm tired all the time. I have spent weeks on end feeling nauseated and struggling to just get through a day, better yet, just get through a meal. (This has gotten much better) My hormones are in full gear. I can almost feel them wash over me at times. If I wasn't pregnant, I would be begging for Prozac, but since I am, I remind myself that its the hormones that have grasped my sense of reality. My 4 year old has just entered the stage of crying over everything just to see if she can get her way. It has never worked before so, it actually feels like she is testing my boundaries to see how hard she can push and if she can reach a new level, perhaps the level where I will cave. My 2 year old has begun the, "I love you Mama" stage where she cannot spend a minute without me and it breaks my heart that I won't be able to dote on her the same way in 6mths. The class I teach had doubled in size from last semester and the level of reading/grading has done the same just as my attention span has had decreased and my ability to concentrate.
I want this baby more than anything and I am so blessed to have this opportunity, but sometimes I think why is something so wonderful sometimes be so horrible? Then, I knock on wood and feel guilty for the thought. Next, I pray for the second trimester when the pregnancy is a little less ironic.