Wednesday, January 6, 2010

First Trimester Down...

So, here I am, posting from 16 weeks in.

You know how some women are definitely the Earth Mother types? Broad of hip, and generous of rack, they exude fecundity and the glowingness of impending motherhood? You know those people?

I'm not one of them.

Apart from the fact that I started off on the slightly scrawny side, I have worked out from the last 12 weeks of HELL, that pregnancy doesn't really agree with me. Not that I have any extreme tales of uber puke-fests to impart, nothing like that. Just 12 long weeks of feeling more or less continuously queasy, NO interest in food, combined with instructions to 'nibble' continuously to keep the queasiness down, and the occasional noisy hurl (apparently, it's possible to do this quietly, but I haven't mastered the art).

Also, the enhanced sense of smell thing? Oh it's true. Boy is it true - but it's no good AT ALL. As far as I can tell, my nose has become majorly picky about a) kitchen smells (can't stand them - ANY of them), and b) laundry soap smells (we're running through different brands of laundry soap to try to find one which doesn't make me want to gag when I smell the end result on clothes).

Earth Mother types go through all this and more, I don't doubt. But they DEAL with it - they gird their gag reflexes, and march on into a wonderful second trimester.

Me? I spent almost 3 months lying on the sofa like a tubercular swan. No venturing outside (too nervous to stray far from my porcelain safety blanket), eating the blandest of foods, and alternating between stomach-curdling nausea, and feeling so bloated that I was tempted to stick a drawing pin in my stomach just to relieve some of the built-up pressure.

Anyway .. everything eased up a little over Christmas - thank heavens - and I've finally stopped berating myself on the general foolishness of ever, ever wanting to procreate. That's not to say that I'm under any illusion that my body actually belongs to me at the moment. My stomach still likes to twist itself into knots, rather than inform me in the usual 'polite' way that it's empty and would like some food - so eating is still a bit of a battle between 'need food' and 'don't want food'. I still can't bear certain smells, and from what I've read, this might well last until the little sucker is squeezed out. And gas? Boy, you could live on a diet of pure legumes, and I could STILL out-fart you. Yeesh.

Impending motherhood may be glorious for some, but not for THIS little fat cow, my friends...

No comments:

Post a Comment