Well, now that we've had our celebratory baby announcement, I have to tell you: this first trimester has not been fun. I'm sure that people told me that the first trimester would be tough, but I didn't grasp the full extent of what that meant. So for those of you who might be thinking about getting pregnant at some point in the future, here's what it means: three months of complete exhaustion. Feeling like your body has become a science experiment gone awry, with preferences and repulsions that are entirely new to you. Not in a fun way. Nausea that can only be stemmed by shoving the least odious food into your mouth (almost 100% of the time for me, since January, this food has been beige). This food is not delicious or enjoyable--it just dulls the nausea.
And I didn't even have it all that bad! I only threw up three times. I managed to teach all my classes and make all my appointments. I never had to leave school to take a nap, although there were days I was sorely tempted.
I now have a new level of experiential conviction about the Florynce Kennedy statement, "If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament." This pregnancy is much-wanted, but even so, this has been a pretty miserable experience. I can't imagine making someone who didn't want to stay pregnant, stay pregnant--the first trimester alone is like three months of cruel and unusual punishment.
A few weeks ago, in the shower, I made up a song--in the spirit of the songs my brothers used to write--about being pregnant. Here are two of the verses:
The first trimester sucks a hairy monkey penis.I promise that in the next few days, I'll write about some of the things I like about pregnancy, but I had to get out at least some of the complaints I've been holding back since January.
If I were a male monkey, I would love the first trimester.
8 comments:
OH MY GOD I thought the previous image was just something Walter made to stir up the anti-abortion brigade that plagues your blog. I never even bothered to check back for comments because I assumed it so fake.
ZEE OH EM GEE i was pwnt
Muches congrabulations and I look forward to there being another member of your crazy clan.
:( I'm sorry.
Oh don't worry about it. Complaining about pregnant aches and pains is somewhat of a rite of passage on this particular journey. Later on it'll be heartburn and a separating pelvis. Even if your pregnancy is perfect it won't feel perfect and there is some strange relief in whining on occasion.
I can't wait for you to write about the politics of pregnancy and birth in this country.
Kevin, I am MUCH amused that you thought the last post was a fake! Nope, there is a little Biffle-Piepmeier on the way, currently in sea monkey stage but getting bigger all the time, and already learning banjo riffs.
Heather, thanks for the validation of my complaining!
And never fear, Kimberly--much political pregnancy blogging is on the way!
I actually had a dream last night that you were pregnant, and then I read your blog today, and you are! Very weird, but CONGRATULATIONS!
I think that you could turn your two verse song into a talking blues number. And then pitch it to the Charleston Blues Club.
The baby thing all sounds healthy.
I suppose it's wrong of me as one of the first of the people I knew to be pregnant to feel the teensiest bit satisfied to know that some of my friends now understand first-hand what that means on a visceral level? I'm feeling less like a pregnancy pioneer these days...;-)
(Not, of course, that I wish the nausea on you! And, to include the obligatory war story reference...at least you aren't wearing your pee in a bag strapped to your leg...)
Seriously though...many best wishes to you and Walter and the monkey-kind.
-littledj
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