Pregnancy

I read all the books. Watched all the shows. But I was not prepared for what was about to happen to my poor body. Everything indicated this experience was going to be a beautiful miracle...the outcome is a beautiful little miracle...the process is freaking gross.
I hope other women have better experiences than I did. Some people love pregnancy, but I hated it. Starting at about 6 weeks I was SOOOO sick. Not just morning sickness, breathing sickness. If I was conscious, I felt like hell. There was no food that I could even think about without wanting to barf. And there was no medication that would calm my poor stomach. I spent 10 weeks losing weight instead of gaining and sucking constantly on Jolly Ranchers just to keep a half tolerable taste in my mouth. First Trimester: TERRIBLE.
Second trimester was ok. I made up for all the weight loss of the first trimester by eating everything in sight during the second. Everything I saw on TV looked good, and if I didn't have it in the house I would go on adventures to find it. I drove an hour for Krispy Kreme donuts (totally necessary) and scoured out a place that served fresh warm delicious funnel cakes. Nom. But then came the swollen feet and extreme exhaustion. Working 45 hours a week on your feet being pregnant is NOT fun. Not to mention the leaky boobs, hints of stretch marks, and potty...erm...issues. Gross. Lets not forget you've somehow got to get upwards of 64 oz. of water down your throat every day. So I kept myself slightly distracted with making K Jo's bedding and ordering absolutely everything we would need. On the down side, it was completely disgusting, but on the upside, little K Jo started moving ALL the time, and my bump actually became more than just a beer gut, so that was fun.
Third Trimester. Misery. NOTHING fit anymore. Not my shoes, not my shirts...nothing. Even maternity clothes eventually became too small. I'll never forget trying to get ready to go to the hospital. I went to put on some cute overalls I got at Motherhood Maternity that I saved for my most whale-like days and it didn't fit. I was huge. Simply standing I would get out of breath. My swollen feet never returned to normal size, whether I put them up or not. I couldn't eat much because there simply wasn't room in my stomach. Everything was squished. And forget sleeping at night. I obviously couldn't sleep on my belly, and if I tried sleeping on either side my stomach moved so far to that side that the opposite side hurt. Forget sleeping flat on your back cuz then you can't breathe. So enter MASSIVE amounts of pillows and constant tossing and turning. Yay. And then add in the fact that everyone is placing bets on when you will have the baby, getting you excited that just maybe the little one will make an appearance late enough that she won't have health problems but earlier than your due date...but no. I went all the way to the end. And I thought I was going to walk my feet down to bloody nubs I walked so much trying to get her out! I felt her flip at 32 weeks so I was CONVINCED she was coming earlier than 40 weeks, but she just kept getting lower and lower and not coming out. It got to the point that I was certain I was just going to sit on her head one day. She was SO uncomfortably low. Add in false labor and its just icing on the cake. I would contract every 2 minutes for HOURS, then get up and get ready to go to the hospital and they would stop. Fun stuff. But I kept working to stay busy (thank goodness for that, or I would have lost my mind) and that seemed to pass the time.

My doctor's office had my due date as April 30th. I was fairly certain it was actually May 5th (I'm VERY in-tune with my body). I had an appointment April 29th, at which point they checked to see if I had dilated anymore. I had dilated to 3 cm and the midwife informed me I was contracting (I couldn't feel it) and she would be surprised if I made it through the night without having this baby. She told me to go walk for an hour at the mall (close to the hospital) then go in. Stubborn as I am, I went home and walked on the beach for an hour, felt nothing, and went home. So of course April 30th came and went. No contractions (that I could feel) or any noticeable change whatsoever. Then on May 2nd I woke up and had breakfast and realized, after 2 hours, I hadn't felt Kaelyn move at all. I FREAKED out and called my doctor, who freaked out and told me to come in IMMEDIATELY. So we loaded up and drove the 45 minutes to the doctor. As soon as they put the monitors on, K Jo started kicking. Thank goodness! I was so relieved. But then I became angry when the doctor didn't even check to see if I had progressed! I was 3 cm on Friday and all she had to say was "We'll see you Wednesday when we induce." Awesome. I gave up and figured K Jo wasn't coming out by herself, she was going to need some medical intervention. I settled in and waited for Wednesday morning. Still huge, still waddling, and still miserable.
So I'm overjoyed for people who have wonderful pregnancies. Those must be the people who have multitudes of children. But I did not enjoy it. There were probably a handful of times I was happy and comfortable, but for the majority, nope. Between the body changes, practically living in the bathroom, and giving up your body to a baby who takes everything you have, it just wasn't fun. Don't get me wrong, I was overjoyed to BE pregnant, I just didn't enjoy the whole process. I hear that being pregnant with a boy is alot easier, so I'm hoping that maybe the next one will be a boy and will make me forget all about how scarring this experience was. Here's to hoping...