I am calling it: Pregnancy sucks!

I am more than 7 months into the pregnancy now, and have come to a conclusion: Pregnancy sucks.

I had hoped the problems I have would fade away after the first 3 months, as the literature, doctors, and everyone else seems to promise, but they didn't. True, I don't faint as much anymore, but I still choke for air after a few steps or a few minutes of standing, sometimes so badly that I have to lie down to get my breathing under control again. They've done tests upon tests, but couldn't find any reason and assume that's just a pregnancy symptom gone worse in my case. So even getting home up the stairs to the second floor is nearly impossible to accomplish and I need to take breaks every few steps.

They tell you a lot of things about pregnancy: What a miracle it is to create new life, how happy you must be to be expecting, that you will glow and get energy boosts, and just simply how excited you must be now. What they don't tell you is how hard it is. How terrible you feel at first, and not just for 3 months, when the baby sucks everything out of you. How "morning sickness" is the misnomer of the millennium, as it has nothing to do with mornings, you feel sick ALL THE TIME. The glow and energy boost is still keeping me waiting, instead my skin is drier than ever and psoriasis is sprouting all over. And instead of extra energy I dose off every few hours from exhaustion. 

 

The worst I experience, though, is this expectation by society that now you have to be happy and excited. I am too exhausted to be either. On the contrary, I struggle very much with not just losing control over my body, feeling exhausted and unwell almost the entire time, and no matter which way I turn I cannot get comfortable, but also as a consequence losing control over my life, social and professional. Having to be somewhere on time, already a struggle in London with transport here being what it is, is even more of an uphill struggle when I can walk only at half the normal speed and need to sit down for a breath every couple of minutes. Going places where I can't have a seat are out, as after a few minutes of standing I will be out of breath and feel faint. Staying out with friends is a very limited experience, as exhaustion will set in after an hour or two, which means I can't continue a conversation and really just want to lie down, or else feel increasingly unwell. Plus, I can manage an evening out maybe once or twice a week, after which I will be too exhausted again for a few days to manage much of anything. The life I used to have is gone, and the simplest things I took for granted are not possible anymore and turn everything upside down. 

 

Some people might be able to deal with this easily, but many, like myself, are not. Having no control over my life anymore as my body won't let me do even simple things like walking up stairs, is such a radical limitation to how I used to live that it depresses me. Which is another thing that nobody talks about, but thousands of pregnant women experience: antenatal depression. If we would talk about it more maybe more women would be prepared for the reality of what pregnancy can bring to your life, the sacrifices you have to make in your life and to the way you live it, the drastic changes it brings long before you have even given birth, or put simply: That being pregnant means giving up control. Some lucky ones will do well and not experience as many limitations as others. But for many it is a huge struggle, both physically and psychologically. And meeting constant expectations from society that you have to be over-the-moon happy and excited only makes it worse, takes even more control, the control over your own feelings, away from you. 

So in essence, I know that there are women out there who have wanted a baby, have been planning for it for a long time and who are excited when it finally happens. Good for you! There are also many who desperately want a child but cannot have one, and who will gladly put up with feeling miserable as long as it means they are pregnant. And all of their feelings are valid. All I am saying is that mine are just as valid, as is the struggle of many many other women who have trouble coping with pregnancy. Not talking about it and instead spreading this stereotype of the glowing, energetic woman stroking lovingly her growing bump with an angelic smile on her face, does not help. On the contrary, it worsens the situation for many who do not feel this way and instead wonder what is wrong with them, since everyone tells you this is how you have to be, so obviously being different means something must be wrong with them. 

Therefore, I am saying today that pregnancy is not what society stereotypes make it out to be. Not for everyone, that is. It can be an exhausting experience, it can even be a bad experience, depending on how it goes for you. Expectations are so often wrong. In my case it certainly is a major struggle, and not a very happy one. I simply think being pregnant sucks. And you know what? Despite what they tell you, this is okay.

The Joys of Pregnancy

 

...And the pregnancy goes on. The fainting at least has subsided, so there's a plus, but the promised energy boost after 12 weeks seems to have missed the bus... and it must be one of those old horse-drawn buses, since I am 19 weeks now and still can't bring up enough energy to walk more than 5 minutes. Which is exacerbated by the fact that I get breathless after walking only a few steps. And going up the stairs means usually that I choke at the end of it, despite several breaks in between the two flights up to my flat, and have to force a bit of water down my throat through the choking and the exhaustion tears, which so far seems to be the best way to get my breath back under control, well, after a while. Good thing is, my hubby is now on constant duty to carry my bag and coat up ahead of me, which makes it slightly easier to manage the stairs. I can only say that I'm glad that this part, where my bump is just a bit bigger, is now in winter where I have to wear all these thick clothes. Once the bump weighs a few more kilos I think we would need a crane to get me up those two floors, walking will be impossible!

Oh, and another joy I have discovered, excuse me for mentioning this, I know some people will frown upon such an indelicate subject, is the impressively varied farting, from painfully explosive to sly and unpleasantly odoured. It seems pretty everything I eat gives me wind, which has a knack of appearing at the most inappropriate moments. Seriously, my level of shame has been so much reduced by now due to helplessly having to endure unstoppable farts in public, I wonder if I will ever be allowed back into normal society... The alternative, keeping them in, is unthinkable. Tried it, and the pain makes me double over, sometimes even without me trying to keep it in but simply having wind trapped... Another thing nobody has ever mentioned to me before about the joys of pregnancy. 

The silver lining I keep reminding me of: all of this will go on the list, and when she is a teenager and annoyed like hell by her mum I will present her with all the things I had to endure to get her that far, see who wins the annoy-the-other contest!

So much for those pregnancy stereotypes...

 

Let me start by saying that this is my own experience, and that I am aware that other women have other experiences, some better, some worse. I am saying that because lately I have come to realise that when it comes to pregnancy suddenly everyone has an opinion, no, not just an opinion but KNOWS what it is that has to be done, and nothing else. And everyone seems to be so very adamant about it, there is no space for other opinions, no, when it comes to pregnancy their way is the only way, and if you don’t do it then you are at best toying with a life, at worst on your way to become a baby-killer. Trouble with that: Everyone tells you something different. So no matter what, as soon as you’re pregnant, you’re screwed. Pardon the pun…

Anyway, here I am, recently found out that I am pregnant after months of worsening nausea and fainting spells, which, when I finally collapsed at the station on the way to work made me go to a walk-in clinic and they did the test. I vaguely suspected it, after the last period was unusually short, but not being sure if I even COULD get pregnant (for various reasons) meant I tried to ignore it as long as I could. Add to that the fact that I am a) on the old side with 40, b) not exactly the ideal weight with my overweight and far from fit, c) not at all the baby person, never having wanted children apart from a spell around 30 and by now rigorously set in my ways which do not exactly leave room for a little thing in there that will keep me awake day and night and do nothing but eat, sleep and poo, and require constant care, and you may see that this is not exactly the Hollywood swoon-in-happiness epiphany. Nonetheless, despite the heightened risk of miscarriage I decided to give it a try. I did consider getting rid of it, but I know this is the last chance I get, and knowing there was a time where I wanted a child, well, I just couldn’t run the risk of regretting it. Although who knows, I might regret it anyway… I do believe in nature’s ways though, and that whatever happens happens, and if I had so radically NOT wanted a child we would’ve been more careful. No matter which way this goes, it is where my life is leading me, and it will be another step in my development.

That being said, this thing is horrible. I can’t help but think of it as a parasite. I am constantly exhausted to the point where I can only roll up crying on the sofa, the constant nausea is not helping (whoever came up with the term Morning Sickness should be shot for maliciously misleading half the population on Earth!!), and I am convinced this thing is out to kill me by making me faint all over the place! Not exactly the smart thing to do to advertise your case, is it? Well, in its excuse I will say that the brain so far is a lump of cells, mixed in with cells for all sorts of other purposes, but still! The worst though is that I can’t walk more than 5 minutes without losing my breath, which makes life exceedingly difficult. Getting to and from work is hell, and I mean pure hell. Standing with a few million people squashed into oxygen-depleted train carriages while concentrating with every fibre on NOT collapsing just yet, while sweat pours and the cold outside will then instantly make you shiver freezing as soon as you step out of the station, not exactly healthy. Every morning when I get to work I need to lock myself in the loo, to cry with the exhaustion and change into dry clothes. Social life is non-existent, I can hardly get myself to work and back, there is no energy left to meet with friends. I tried to force myself. I had to cut it short when I couldn't keep the tears back from exhaustion. 

Crying is another thing altogether. For no reason at all that I can distinguish I just gush into tears. Let’s just say, the pretty picture they feed you all over the media with a glowingly smiling woman tenderly patting her belly, it’s crap. For me. It’s friggin’ exhausting, mentally and physically. And I am not sure anymore why I chose to continue… 

For now, with all these problems, my midwife and GP make me go to various hospital appointments about twice a week. For someone who hates going to the doctor in the first place, this is quite a bit upsetting, although I do feel that at least they are working on making it better with all these tests and monitoring. 

They say it does get better. That the nausea will tone down, the body gets used to the extra demand and stop making me collapse, and even the hormones tone down and the gushing tears will settle into a bit more control. That's what they say. But they also say it is the happiest time of one's life, and that is just crap in my case. I for one can't wait for this to be over. Although, essentially I guess this rather means it is just the start, doesn't it...