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When you are a dreamer, you fast realize with growth and wisdom comes disappointment. This seems to be a recurring theme throughout this entire diary and more so recently as I go through life’s big events. My first trimester of pregnancy is over, but the sickness has not abated. My uterus feels like it’s about to rip from my body. I am bleeding. I have constant headaches. I cannot stomach anything resembling a vegetable. I hurl water like it’s poison. My face is covered in broken blood vessels from heaving so forcefully. I cannot poo. It hurts when I pee. My nipples are covered in crust. I cannot have sex. Even throwing up anywhere from 2 to 9 times a day, I still have gained 8 pounds. I hate being pregnant. I always thought I would be a “dreamy mommy”. The kind who rubs her belly and stares off into the distance with a wistful, secret smile. The kind of expectant mother who says morning sickness is a small price to pay for the miracle growing inside. I call bull-fucking-shit. Pregnancy sucks. And yah, I should be grateful for the ability to conceive and carry a child. I am. But that doesn’t mean I have to be graceful about it. I didn’t mean this to turn into a frivolous rant. I wanted to write more about how I feel so disappointed in myself over my emotions and thoughts during this pregnancy. How I felt resentful towards this tiny creature taking over my body, causing chaos in my life, making me start a job in an awkward situation. Because, this pregnancy may have been planned, but it still happened WAY TOO soon. It was supposed to take at least three or four months… but it happened right away and it has thrown me all out of whack. I am a planning type, I PLAN and I organize and I make my life what I want it to be based on plans and goals. I usually get what I want. This baby... well, it was planned, but not planned. My control has been broken. When I started bleeding in week 12, the first thing I felt was relief. I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to change my life, that I would get my body back… and the guilt then washed over me. I sobbed on the way to the hospital because of the conflicting emotions, not because of the potential miscarriage. It was horrible. When the steady whoosh, whoosh filled the room… I cried again, because the baby was okay and for the relief that I wouldn’t be that horrible person who wished her baby dead and got what she wanted. It turned out I just had a low-lying placenta… and was put on pelvic rest. Pregnancy has been a struggle… it has been the most complex time of my life. Yet another hard dose of reality that it is not all happiness and planning nursery décor… My sister’s friend who had an accidental pregnancy told me that you should only ever plan to get pregnant if there is absolutely nothing left in the world that sounds better or more fun to do. I have found that to be absolutely the truth… it is a commitment… and one that you step optimistically blind into, because you just never know what it will really entail, until you’re living it.
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