Yeah, so, morning sickness is bullshit.
The term is not accurate at all. Basically, I was nauseous day and night for six weeks straight. I wish I was exaggerating. I refused to call it “morning sickness,” opting for the more accurate term “baby poisoning.” I even submitted “baby poisoning” to Urban Dictionary, see? Finally, I’m making a difference in the world.
I never sat around and imagined what I would be like when I was pregnant, because I didn’t want to be pregnant. But when that pregnancy test came back positive, I hoped I would be one of those beautiful pregnant ladies. I’d be glowing and rock a tiny, little baby bump when I’m six months along like I’m Kate Hudson or Heidi Klum. I would brag about how I didn’t get morning sickness and didn’t put on any weight in my first trimester.
Instead, I was constantly nauseous and the only thing that made me feel better was eating carbs. All the veggies I usually love to eat made me want to throw up. The glow I had was grease on my face from the bag of potato chips I inhaled. The little baby bump? Yeah, I was rocking that look at about the two month mark, thanks to the nonstop eating and no exercising due to the baby poisoning.
I would read on the baby sites: “I lost weight my first trimester,” or “I put on two pounds in my first trimester.” I hated those women. I packed on an immediate 20 pounds when all the sites say three to five pounds is the average. My belly pooched out the instant the pregnancy test said positive.
The nonstop eating to hold off the nausea was pretty ridiculous. The doctor said that this is perfectly normal behavior and the best way to deal with the nausea. However, I don’t think it’s normal to wake up at 3 a.m. to chug a glass of milk and eat graham crackers in bed to prevent vomiting unless you have been drinking. I don’t feel like it’s normal to put on 20 pounds in two months.
Now, at the three-month mark I’m already wearing maternity clothes. It’s difficult to accept when I’ve spent my entire adult life trying not to gain weight. I was, and still am, very hard on myself about it. I’ll say to myself, “Really, Sonia? You can’t let the weight thing slide when you are pregnant. You are seriously fucked up,” which results in me being even harder on myself. I handled breast cancer better than I’m handling this whole being pregnant thing.
When I talk about it with my friends or family, or when I read up about it on pregnancy websites, I get the same response: “Every pregnancy is different. Some women show early, some don’t show until they are 8 months.” My rational mind gets it. The part of mind that is fucked up about food and weight issues does not.
Of course, now that the baby poisoning is considerably less, I’m hoping I will stop getting so huge, so fast, and I can stop beating myself up. I realize that I’m pregnant, and I’m going to gain weight. That’s how it works. I might as well relax and enjoy the carb-filled ride.
I want to make sure that spawn is born healthy, but I also want to make sure that I stay healthy. It’s important for women with a history of breast cancer to stay fit and trim, so I want to make it as easy for me to get back in shape after the spawn is born. I’m 40. It’s already hard for me to lose weight. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s going to be when I’m trying to lose baby weight.
After a six-week hiatus, I returned to yoga last week, which always clears my mind and makes me feel better. And, if the San Francisco weather cooperates, I’ll start taking Homer for some longer walks. Oh, and I’ll stop waking up at 3 a.m. and eating peanut butter sandwiches in bed; that should help.