I really didn't enjoy being pregnant. I was rubbish at it. I felt ill the whole time. I was sick until 21 weeks. I was seriously anaemic. My kidneys got easily infected. I kept going into retention. I had acid reflux. I had very low blood pressure. I was in agony most of the time. I had major PGD. I fainted many times. I could hardly eat anything. I hated being pregnant, I loved carrying my baby and getting gradually bigger, but I hated being pregnant.
I was so desperate to have a baby. Miscarrying was just the worst time of our lives. When I moaned about feeling dreadful, some people were quick to remind me that I wanted to be pregnant. I wasn't saying I didn't want to be pregnant, I just felt terrible and inpatient. But I still felt guilty for not enjoying it.
People said the second trimester is great, you bloom, they said.
You'll start to feel better soon.
It'll go really quickly. Don't wish it away.
It'll fly by. It'll be over before you know it.
|Last day of pregnancy, 30 weeks - my birthday.|
Well despite it being a rather short pregnancy it was the longest nearly-seven months ever. Some days I counted down the hours. To this day I have no idea how I did the things I did while pregnant. I don't know how I dragged my aching body into work each week for as long as I did. I eventually had to go part-time, then a bit more part-time. Then my GP suggested I take maternity leave early and I worked from home.
It did not go quickly.
|Sore feet :(|
I hope he comes early, I'd say. Oh the horror, not that early. I was thinking 2 or 3 weeks not 10. I wish I hadn't said it. I know it made no difference, but still.
Looking at that fragile little body with his chest caving in with every recession heavy breath, oh how I longed to be pregnant again. To have him in me, safe and secure.
Seeing him in that incubator all weak and vulnerable I just craved feeling him kick inside me again. That was by far the most wonderful part of being pregnant, the kicks. I could feel them from about 16 weeks. I enjoyed the company, he made me jump from time to time but I loved the feeling of his little feet, elbows and bum poking and prodding me. Bizarrely, I sometimes feel like I can still feel him kicking. Which, other than being very odd, makes me very sad. It just reminds me Skittle should have been in there longer and compounds my failing feeling. I thought I was loosing my marbles but apparently lots of women experience "phantom kicks". Strange.
It might have felt like a long time but I wish it had been longer.