I had to disappear/take a break shortly because I've been so incredibly nauseous and hormonal all day every day that I could not pull it together to think or do little more than take care of tiny Sabine.
I've also felt fresh out of things to say. I'm not sure if it's because I've said so much already or because the nausea has seeped into my brain and taken it over completely. And if you've ever had that happen--feeling dizzy, dry heaving and like you're going to hurl from the minute you wake up to the minute you go to sleep so that you can't even think straight, see or feel much else--then you know it can leave you in somewhat of a dark place.
And that dark place has become a guilty place, too. Because the last thing I want to feel is depressed when I have this wonder of a miniature human being named Sabine, who has so much love to give and blows my mind on a daily basis. Or when I have a husband who is so patient and understanding that he doesn't at all mind when I a)fall asleep at 9 p.m. every night; b)prepare practically inedible meals because the smell of most food items leaves me bent over the sink or the toilet bowl; and c)have been the pilot who has steered our sex life into the nose dive position.
(*side note: I am not and never have been as house wife-y as the above paragraph makes me sound. I cook four days a week and Kadin cooks three. Or we order takeout. And I do not not believe that I should regularly give it up to my husband as some sort of marital responsibility...but sex is fun when you don't feel like you're going to vomit. And Kadin is five years younger than I am--and not nauseous.)
And, of course, I also feel guilty about the fact that I'm at a point where I cannot enjoy the fact that I'm growing a little life inside my belly.
Why does it seem that when you're depressed or sick, everyone else is walking around the world with perfect sanity, health, happiness and togetherness? It's like I've only been able to see beautifully fashionable women or unburdened moms pushing smiling babies beneath golden trees and the bluest fall skies that I haven't been able to soak up.
I read recently in some trashy celebrity magazine that Jessica Simpson said something about how she loves being pregnant and could be pregnant forever. Kadin says she feels this way because now has an excuse to eat whatever she wants.
I wish I loved pregnancy in the way some women do. Conceptually, I think it's extraordinary that cells grow rapidly in your body and bloom into tiny people who you love so much you'd die for them. But in my own practical experience, the first three months of pregnancy are a vomit-filled hell. And during months seven and a half through nine, I'm crippled by constant heartburn and the inability to sleep or bend over.
The good news is that as of Monday, I'm officially finished with my tightrope walking experience known as the first trimester. I've felt much less queasy and crazy in the past few days. I hope that I will soon be swooning and starry-eyed and brimming with pregnancy glow. I'm ready for a sunny second trimester. So are Kadin and Sabine. Cross your fingers.