Well. I’m learning about the process one day at a time. Despite not being outwardly obvious with signs of baby-on-board, holy moly, am I beat.
Funny, too: I have been known to give adult picky eaters a hard time. Yes, one or two foods that just don’t do it for you are understandable but, seriously… you still don’t eat any vegetables? It used to drive me nuts to bring a group of grown people together for an impromptu dinner at my home and be flooded with special requests (“tomatoes are gross,” “ew, peppers,” “oh, not that kind of lettuce, this kind of lettuce”). Lo and behold, I eventually didn’t cook for folks who were going to bring amaranth flour over for the bread I was baking because they thought it would be a “nice change” for me – for me? (You know what? If amaranth is your thing, then take the time you spent driving all the way to my house for this special delivery to bake your own bread with it to bring later, hmm??). Perhaps I’m being harsh, but I spent way too much time trying to accomodate people who seemed to expect it.
That being said, I’m pregnant. I acknowledge with great gratitude that my “morning” sickness has been a walk in the park compared to a lot of women. Generally, the nausea just lasts all day and picks up to its peak later in the evening. Fun. And admittedly difficult to feel too adventuresome around. However, I haven’t been running to the restroom or unable to keep food down. I started to question all the tales of food cravings until one night I really, really wanted toasted ravioli.
And the two days a couple of weeks ago that I had to have super crusty bread.
Oh, and the baby carrots in the beginning.
Alright, admittedly, it was happening. And while some foods cause certain women to vomit on their mere mention, I haven’t had that problem. Seafood hasn’t been all that enticing, but I think I could do it. Coffee, particularly my every-other-day latte fix, hasn’t attracted me one bit. My sister even mentioned pickles to me in the grocery store today and I thought I was going to have to leave my half-full shopping cart behind and walk out.
Most of all, I ended up in tears the other night standing in the bedroom between Matt and the door to the bathroom.
“Aw, hon, what’s the matter?”
“I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m coming down with the flu every day and I have another… 4-6 weeks of this!! (sob!!)”
Then I feel like a whiny little wimp.
He’s so compassionate in this process, serving hugs abundantly to every moment that beckons and as I stood there wondering if that was going to be my first evening running to the bathroom, wordlessly he went it, cleaned the toilet thoroughly, put a towel down on the cold tile, a bath robe on a chair nearby, and switched a nightlight on. I made it through the night. Not so much the next night, though.
So I now embrace the fact that while I don’t want to take advantage of it, there are and will continue to be justified moments that I will be picky about food (no salmon, thank you!), that I will feel like I’ve been hit by a truck every day some time around 3 or 4pm and will be pretty much incapable of much besides sitting and staring blankly into space. I will have funky dreams and strange new aches and sensations. And that I will be up to pee at least once.
Every. Single. Night.
With this I’m realizing that I need to be reasonable in my fitness, but diligent which is sometimes a challenge. If I exercise in the morning (even as simple as going for a walk), I can’t just half-ass breakfast by grabbing a granola bar on the way out the door. If I wait until the afternoon, I will have an extremely hard time mustering the energy to get my rear out the door.
Food and movement have become central to my overall well feeling throughout the day (and lots of water and peppermint tea). But once I get out there in the fresh air and sunshine, I feel so much better and, well, happier overall. Is that really a surprise, though?
One side note that my mom so graciously offered was this: take your weight every day. I didn’t like that thought at first and figured I do this once a week. What this helps with, though, is gauging for yourself how you’re doing on nutrition and exercise.
Your body needs you to help it, read it, sometimes push it, sometimes pamper it, but always listen to it – now more than ever.
Weight is one easy window into your body’s world for the time being. Besides, doctors’ office scales are always, without fail, 2 to 8 lbs different from your scale at home whether you’re pregnant or not. Take heed and do it yourself in the comfort of your own home so you’re basing your potentially fragile self-esteem off of a scale that feels consistent to you.
We are planning some trips. One with my mom, sister, and me – a second with just Matt and me. These will commence in the second trimester, when I get to start trying out some different maternity clothes (yikes!) and gear (a climbing harness made for pregnant ladies debuting in 2013), reviewing how certain hiking gear, smaller volume backpacks, even sleeping stuff feels and works with a rounder figure and a bit more weight. That is when this adventure will really begin to feel like a reality!