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...
