So shortly after Christmas the husband and I found out that we were expecting a small child. I call it Spawn. My mother hates the name. She can deal. Ultimately, I know this story will have a happy ending and that I will love Spawn dearly and all that but thus far (17 weeks) I hate being pregnant. I hate the word pregnant. I hate that everyone says "Do you feel pregnant yet?" "Did you buy pregnant pants?" etc etc etc. Don't even get me started on the nicknames. If anyone uses the word PREGO around me I cringe inside my head. My name is Danielle. It is not "Mamma or hot mama or mama W"
No one wants to know how I really feel. Trust me. My poor husband gets to hear it and he's great. He's the most supportive understanding and wonderful human being in the world and I'm a craptastic wife because this is supposed to be something we both are excited about and love going through together. Well, I don't. I pretend. I try. It's not working. Most days I just feel grotesque. I can't imagine that that's going to get better. I hate being fat on a normal basis and this is just worse.
I hate having constant aches and pains. I hate not being able to sleep properly. I hate that my regular clothes dont fit and the maternity pants fall down every 10 steps. I hate that our already stretched budget is getting stretched even thinner as we try to buy the basics. I hate that everyone is sooooo excited for us and expects me to be all happy and chipper all the time. I loathe with a burning passion hotter than the flames of hell that people feel like they NEED to tell me that what comes next is worse. "Your dog got mud on your curtains, wait til you have a kid." "You're hot today? Wait til you're 9 months pregnant. You'll want to die." "Ohhhh you can't plan on making it to your due date. You could probably go into labor any time in August while you're at work." You know what? I don't want to hear your opinion. It's nervewracking enough to KNOW in your head that all those things could and probably will happen. You don't need to take some schadenfreude pleasure out of telling me how awful labor is how much you tore, how your body will never be the same and OH MY PERSONAL FAVORITE that the hormones cause all kinds of other health issues to happen like "hey that one lady that we both know that got cancer right after she had her 2nd kid." Oh and let's not forget the "what if it's autistic or any other THING that could happen you'll still love it." What happened to boundaries? What happened to not saying anything if you dont have anything nice to say?
One of the worst parts is that no one listens. They ask what you want and then do the exact opposite. They dont respect your boundaries and they don't care. They're all too excited for you to listen to what you want. It's good intentioned but it makes me feel like crap.
I am a borderline hypochondriac. I knew this was going to be challenging. I knew that with as sensitive as I am to every ache, pain and twinge in my body and with my past history of anxiety that this was not going to be a great experience. I know that I make mountains out of molehills, that I see zebras where there are horses and that I'm overall a nut job about my body being 'my body.' I'm also well aware to all the armchair counselors out there that depression is a real hazard of being pregnant. Yes, I'm also aware that there are pills you can take for that. I also know that I'm not depressed. I've been depressed and on anti anxiety meds before. This is different. This is just having a feeling that is not popular with the general public. The world doesnt want you to be unhappy when you're experiencing 'one of the great miracles in life'. The world wants you to wake up perky and full of sunshine and glitter laughing about how pleasantly plump you are and how you have that GLOW which is really just oil from your hormonal teen angsty skin.
Will I be a terrible mother? No. Will I love the child with all my heart when it's here? Yes. Would 99.99 percent of the world judge me from this post..Probably. It's okay. I'll be fine. August 29th anyway.