Kung fu fighting.

What in the hell is going on in my body right now? Someone, who is already really large, is kicking me 24/7. It is the most painful thing ever. Miserable actually. And it almost never stops. I am glad to know she is doing okay in there but Jesus Christ. The kicking is getting to be intolerable. Kicking my lungs. Kicking my bladder. Perhaps she is teaching a spin class or doing the uneven bars on my rib cage? She is constantly flipping, rolling, dancing, doing cartwheels (I assume) or doing the Wobble. But there’s just not enough room in there for these antics. We are so tight on space. She is way too big for her residence and it’s basically making it impossible for me to sit down, drink or eat, or really even live without crying. It’s very intense and I cannot wait for 6-8 weeks from now when that is not a thing anymore.

I hate to say this because I know I am lucky to be pregnant and I am also very excited for this little nugget to get here, but man, pregnancy is not my thing. Many women say that pregnancy makes them feel beautiful or sexy. Those people are the worst. Because this is the least beautiful I have ever been in my life. At every step of this process, I have had the worst possible side effects. I have had fucking miserable morning sickness that lasted months longer than it was supposed to. I had nosebleeds for months. I have had headaches and dizziness. I have had trouble breathing. Horrendous heartburn. I pee like 10,983 times a day. My skin is itchy. I am fucking exhausted. Sometimes I am a little bitchy, also.

The only thing I have going for me is that my metabolism is amazing right now and I can eat a lot of cookies without getting super obese. But I am not sure that’s enough to convince me not to have an only child.



You know the series of unfortunate events that occur when you step foot into a Mexican restaurant while hungry. And the chips and salsa come and you haven’t even looked at the menu, so you just jump right in. And you don’t stop to take a drink (or order a drink, if we are being honest) and you don’t really stop to breathe and suddenly most of the chips are gone and you don’t really know what happened but you do know there’s a chip in your hair. And then you order a whole meal anyway …and eat the whole meal anyway. And then after dinner you feel so full,  you think you could explode or that one single sip of Diet Coke could push you over the edge. Oh and also you really need to pee.

That’s what pregnancy feels like. Almost all the time.

I am in the beginning of the uncomfortable stage. I think this stage lasts for the remaining 21 weeks. But I have started the process now and I will be honest, it’s not pretty.

Every morning for the past three days, I have woken up more gigantic than the day before. My stomach skin is so stretchy and tight and hard. It’s kind of gross. Right now I literally cannot imagine a scenario where it continues to stretch in this way until August. Even though I know it will. It seems impossible. I didn’t look all that pregnant until this week. I could certainly pass it off as a little weight gain. And I can probably still hide it a little bit. But it’s out there. And we are now what the moms call ‘popping.’ And that is uncomfortable. Turns out, housing a water balloon full of a mango is uncomfortable.

Don’t get me wrong. I think pregnant people are adorable. I am that person who sees a pregnant person and admires them from afar and thinks they are basically the cutest thing ever. I love to rub a little pregnant belly (if I know you) and sometimes I will do it without permission, which I now realize is so, so weird. (Sorry, if you are reading this and I have violated your personal space.) But I truly think pregnancy is amazing and adorable and wonderful. Or I did. Until it was me.

It feels really selfish to say it, but while I am 100% so grateful for the amazing things my body and all bodies can do during pregnancy and while I feel incredibly lucky to be pregnant, it’s really hard to accept the new me.

Last year, I spent 6 months training for a half marathon. I worked my ass off, literally. I typically ran 5 days a week and did boot camp on top of that. I lost 25 lbs and was in, arguably, the best shape of my life. I worked so hard to get there. And I liked the way I looked for the first time in a long time.

And now I am selfishly jealous of people with tiny waists. And jealous of the runners I see out on a Saturday morning. Because I used to be that Saturday morning runner. I earned my smaller waist and my much smaller jeans. And now I feel like a lollipop. I feel like my brain hasn’t caught up to what my body is doing. Part of that is my hesitation to get too excited about this pregnancy because I am just honestly so nervous about what can still go wrong. And part of it is just me being a round turd. And so when I look in the mirror and weigh myself, I feel a little panic. And that makes me embarrassed and a little ashamed. Because not everyone gets to be pregnant. And being pregnant is a gift that my brain is taking for granted.

So I am trying really hard to embrace my new body. And I know this is just the beginning. But being pregnant is uncomfortable in so many ways. A lot of ways I just never really even considered. But, trust me, none of this has stopped me from eating cookies.

Balance and other things.

This pregnancy can be summed up into one word: balance. I have learned so much about balance the last couple of months. For example, being healthy does not last long. I went run/walking yesterday at lunch. Today, I ate french fries. I also learned that if I eat banana muffins every day for a week, I will lose my mind when I think about bananas and then avoid them at all costs in the future. It’s a good balance. I also learned that if I clean the house and take a jog and run errands all day on a Saturday, then my Sunday will consist of five hours of a Blue Bloods marathon, drinking Gatorade and trying to make sure my skin has not fused into the couch cushions. Everything in moderation.

On another note, today was my 18 week appointment! That means, depending on when this little lady decides to show up, I am alllllllllmost half way there! Woo!

Baby’s heart rate was good. I asked the probably dumb question of how they tell the difference between my heartbeat and her heartbeat and the nurse practitioner showed me the difference – it’s pretty amazing actually. So, that was kind of fun. Our next appointment is the big and important anatomy scan! Even though we know it’s a girl, it’s still exciting to see her, check in and make sure everything is going well.

My doctor was happy with everything and how things are going, which is always comforting. Right before we do the doppler ultrasound, I get a panicky feeling. At this point, I feel pretty confident that she is doing okay in there, but I am always nervous. I was so relieved when everything was okay.

I learned a lot today by asking 186 questions. Here are some things I learned:

You should not eat Tums all day. If you need to eat Tums all day, a doctor will probably put you on prescribed medication for acid.

It is totally normal to have nosebleeds while pregnant.

It’s okay that I have not gained much weight (3 lbs.) however, she wants me to gain 25 total, so right now 22 lbs. in five-ish months sounds pretty intense. I guess when you used to drink a shit ton of strong, calorie-filled IPAs on a fairly regular basis, cutting beer out of your diet can make a difference. However, if I need to have a couple of milkshakes in the meantime, I can make that kind of sacrifice.

You can use a heating pad on your back, but not on your stomach. (Duh?)

The medicine I was taking costs 749 fucking dollars for a month supply. That’s with a $149 off COUPON! Holy shit. That is without insurance. However, most insurance doesn’t cover it. In related news, I am off the medicine and back to puking on the regular. They do not have any samples. Sad face.

I can go to Canada. And I am. Next week. But I should walk around if we get delayed on the tarmac and I should move my ankles around for circulation. She was basically completely cool with me flying, which I expected, and excited that I was going “away from the Zika virus.” So that’s exciting. Is that called a babymoon? What a dumb word.

I have to take folic acid until we do the anatomy scan. Once we do that, I can lay off. Which is exciting because I have to take 10 times the recommended dose. Insert old lady pill box. I AM NOT ASHAMED!

All in all, I am happy I have mostly easily made it to the almost halfway point. Looking forward to our next appointment. Also looking forward to looking pregnant instead of frumpy. When is that supposed to kick in?


The awkward in-between.

I am in the awkward in-between phase of pregnancy. I am almost 4 months pregnant and I am showing a little bit. But not enough to really look cute yet. But just enough to look like I stopped running and have been hitting the chips and salsa pretttttay hard. I am trying to embrace the bump, but because the bump doesn’t look exactly like a bump yet, it’s proving to be a challenge.

Every morning when I wake up, I go through the five stages of grief. Not because I am sad, but because I am mourning the loss of a wardrobe that fit me correctly and anxiously awaiting looking pregnant enough to show it. These are the five stages of awkward-in between:

Denial: I can totally just wear what I normally wear. *Puts on outfit. Looks in mirror. Rubs belly. Changes 10 times. Looks fat but not really pregnant. Puts on robe.* Which brings us to the next stage, anger.

Anger: It’s so frustrating that my pants don’t fit. I am angry that it’s hot in my bathroom and I feel gigantic and I just want to wear pants. I have been wearing mostly dresses since December and I just really miss pants. I am also angry that it’s not spring. If it were spring, I could put on a dress without leggings so my gut could breathe. @#$%&!!!!

Bargaining: If I can just fit in one pair of pants, I promise not to complain about wearing dresses the rest of the week.

Depression: Wahhhhhhhhhh. I look fat. I feel fat. I feel hungry. And sad. But mostly hungry.

Acceptance: I accept this in-between body. Translation: puts on leggings and a dress, calls it a day.

Basically, my mornings are me making this face for one entire hour:


(Just as a side note, Chrissy Teigen, pictured above, is my favorite human being on the planet that I have never met. Her honesty and transparency about life, being a celebrity, body image, a love of food and her struggles with infertility make her my hero. But mostly, she is really funny and makes faces that just can’t hide her real emotions. She is the best.)

I think it’s time to start planning my ensembles in advance and/or praying for spring.

Victory lap!

I survived the first trimester. Yes, survived. There were multiple days while I was dry heaving in the shower or while brushing my teeth, or napping for the fourth time on a Sunday that I thought I may not make it. And that I hoped Matt would find happiness again. But not too quickly. Oh and also take care of the dogs.

But, alas! I have survived. I am now doing a little victory lap! Do I feel better? Abbbbbbsolutely not. But I kept a fetus and myself alive for 14 weeks and by damn I am feeling pretty good about it.

We got to hear our baby’s heartbeat today. Which is very surreal. I try to hang on to those moments knowing in 6 months when she (she!) is here, the time will fly by and surely be a blur. It’s weird to know it’s a girl. She is growing. She has fingernails. She is doing this and that. It’s good to have that confirmation. Just to feel a tiny bit of relief. Those weeks between doctor’s appointments just go by so slowly. It’s good to know everything is okay in there. I mean the constant alternating of puking and ravenous hunger combined with suddenly having boobs was a pretty good indication. But it’s good to have some scientific evidence beyond the glorious side effects of pregnancy.

Everyone has been very excited and supportive of this pregnancy. Since it’s the first grandchild for my mom and dad, they can hardly stand it. My dad was offering up name suggestions by week 10. My mom was buying rompers and my Mawmaw bought little onesies and mittens. My step dad had already looked at little girl’s bikes and golf clubs – both very important for newborns to have. Several friends bought outfits and shoes. She already has her first Packers outfit (thanks aunt Molly!) The kid is 14 weeks old and she easily has 5 pairs of shoes. She even has her My First Christmas outfit!

I told myself I wasn’t going to do anything (decorate, buy clothes, etc. etc.) until I was in my second trimester because I was nervous. I was nervous about everything every single day. And while Matt went on shopping sprees like Target was going to suddenly run out of baby clothes, I held back. I didn’t buy the little swimsuit I saw with pineapples on it, or the UL shoes that were so tiny you can hardly handle it. But I feel a little safer now. Maybe safe enough to venture into a baby section. I mean, if she is coming in August, she definitely needs some sunglasses.

Sprite on the rocks.

You will rarely hear me complain about being pregnant to people I don’t know and love dearly. I try to keep my whining in check. I have yet to announce on social media, but I have no intentions of bitching on there. I am 33 years old and I know enough women to realize I have had it pretty easy. Husman and I didn’t have to try that hard to get pregnant. We didn’t have to do any tests. We didn’t have to spend our life savings on IVF treatments. I had a miscarriage the first time around, but, while that was a miserable experience, we bounced back quickly. My intention is to try not to be too complainy about pregnancy because we have been lucky. So that’s why I am writing on here, so I can vent without pissing anyone in particular off.

So, if you don’t want to hear complainy, this is a good time to stop reading.

I had heard that being pregnant is great. From real humans. Who were or had been pregnant. You glow, they said. You eat whatever you want, they said. People pay attention to you in a really nice way, they said. You can wear those pants that stretch over your gut and be a lot more comfortable, they said. This is all true-ish.

But the barf, guys. No one talks about the barf.

As Miranda from Sex and the City would say, “I don’t know why they call it “morning sickness” when it’s all fucking day long.” At about week 5, the morning sickness began. And here we are, at 13, and I am still in the middle of the grossness.

Every single Monday since week 5, I have said outloud to myself as I gagged over the sink, “self, just a few more weeks of this.” Then around week 10, I started to say “self, just another week or so.” Then at week 12, I said “self, this is it. Next week, you have to feel better.” And self does not feel better. 13.5 weeks and better is all kinds of wrong. I feel awful. Like I have the flu allllllllll the time. Like this alien is trying to kill me from the inside. Like I may not survive another day.

As it turns out, morning sickness can last your whole pregnancy. If I follow in my adorable mother’s footsteps, I have at least two more months of this bullshit. I have been eating Sour Patch Kids like there’s no tomorrow. Chugging Gatorade. Eating saltines and oyster crackers. Drinking Sprite. But not much has helped. I am trying to hold out on taking medicine because I am paranoid but at some point, I am going to  take the damn medicine if this keeps up.

Please tell me it gets better.

Pass the crackers.