Trimester Number One.

My first trimester is a blur to me now. But while I was in it, I truly felt that it was the most difficult thing I had ever experienced up to that point in my life. The sickness hit me pretty early and pretty hard. You hear growing up that when you’re pregnant, you feel “nauseous”. Before becoming pregnant I related this to times in my life when I felt nauseous, and then occasionally vomited. I thought to myself, “Yeah, it’s no fun, but it’s definitely bearable”. What I hadn’t really prepared for was how constant and relentless the nausea was. I was nauseous from the time I woke up until the time I went to bed (I was sure to take some hefty sleeping pills to ensure I could sleep through the nausea and get a good night’s rest regardless). Vomiting a few times a day came as an incredible relief.

Being flat in bed, there were few positions that helped tame the nausea. Even the slightest movement sometimes would aggravate my stomach. Eating was such a chore. I knew I needed to eat (yano, to live), but finding something that didn’t make me gag just thinking about it was difficult and sometimes impossible. Mealtime went a little like this:

1. Matt would suggest a number of options to me.
2. I would go through each option, imagining what that food item would taste like sliding down my throat (that process usually narrowed my options quite a bit).
3. After deciding what to eat, Matt would either prepare it, buy it, or get it through the drive through.
4. Finally, the true test came: Would the smell of it all be too much for me?

I was in school during this period. I was in a classroom setting from Monday-Wednesday all day, then Thursday & Friday I had classes. I would get up in the mornings and take a shower. Most mornings I didn’t have the strength to stand so I would sit in the tub. Matt would help me shower on really, really rough days. I didn’t wear makeup, and I couldn’t even tell you what I wore during those few months. I looked like death, which worked out because I felt like death as well.

Everyday, when I came home and went straight to bed, I just lay there in bed thinking, “What am I doing wrong?”... “Isn’t this supposed to be the happiest period of my married life?”... “I know so many wonderful people who would die to be pregnant, why can’t I be more happy about all of this?” I would complain in my mind or out loud and then feel horribly guilty afterward. I didn’t feel like a strong, capable woman at all. I felt so weak and useless. I felt ungrateful and unworthy of this wonderful blessing. And I was scared to death of feeling sick for nine months straight. I didn’t feel that I would be able to handle it all if that were to be the case.