Pregnancy is Hard. And that's Okay.

August was a CRAZY time for me and my career. The company I work for was launching a new product, which meant marketing (i.e. me), were firing on all cylinders to make it happen 1) on time and 2) smoothly. Even though the department's sanity is gone as a whole and we are still trying to stop the anxious twitching which has developed, the launch went really well and we're still riding our media exposure high in our tech channel.

So, with work coming under control again, my mind has been wandering back to the biggest problem at hand. Pregnant in the third trimester. And it's rough.

This topic has been on my mind a lot lately. Maybe it's because it is my life currently, or because I've been seeing other women having an easier time with pregnancy and it's been making me feel... inadequate? Either way, this post is not going to be about how pregnancy is sunshine and rainbows, nor how I feel a pregnancy glow guiding me through this new chapter. This post is mostly going to be about me ranting about how hard this has been, but holding on to the knowledge it'll be worth it.

If anyone tells you pregnancy is easy or they enjoy being pregnant, that person is definitely not me. I am aware the changes that happen to your body are all individual and some women don't get hit with the "pregnancy symptoms" as hard, or as early, as other women. And if that's you, AWESOME. Enjoy it, because I envy you.

My mother handled pregnancy very well. At least, that's what it seemed like to me on the outside. Since I'm the third oldest out of eight, I was able to watch how she coped through the different stages. And she's a champ.

I was hoping some of those genes would pass on to me and I would be able to navigate through with very little sickness and stretch marks, as she did. Well, let's just say I was not as gifted.

My entire first trimester brought me to be very acquainted with my internal signs of "I'm going to throw up and you have 30 seconds to prepare". For those keeping count, that's three straight months of being nauseated, fatigued, and dehydrated. I threw up at home, in bed, at work, in the car... pretty much anywhere and everywhere. However, thanks to a VERY understanding Giant Man and boss, I was able to navigate through those fluid, dark times.

Then came the second trimester, with a bright light of hope. I was told the second was the best trimester; you get your energy back, no more morning sickness (which by the way does NOT only happen in the morning like the very misleading name would suggest), and you start to feel the baby. I was ecstatic when my nausea fell to the wayside and I thought my problems were finally blooming into the easy, breezy, pregnancy glow.

Nope.

Enter the stretching.

I've never really experienced stretch marks before, so when they started to appear on my stomach, I would be lying if I said I wasn't making a frantic deal out of it. At first, there were only a few and I could deal. Then... they started growing... and multiplying... and long story short, I look like a human hybrid of an okapi.

On the bright side, they no longer bother me. And I don't feel the pressure to try and wipe them out with the special ointment or oils you can use to fade the redness. This is who I am now. I embrace my new spirit animal.

Well, stretch marks only happen when your skin is stretching. Which presented a new hurdle. How do you sleep when you have a bowling ball attached to your abdomen? You don't. Ever. Again.

I've had a lot of people tell me, "Enjoy sleeping while you can, because once the baby is here, then you'll really be tired." To all those people, I say NAY NAY. I don't sleep now. Going from a tummy sleeper to a not sleeper hasn't been the easiest transition for me.

I understand once the baby is out, he'll need to eat and be comforted when he wakes up crying. But guess what I'll have then that I don't have now? A second person who can help him while I stay in bed. Turns out when the baby is inside of me, GM can't really comfort him or take him to a different room so I can sleep. T-minus 1.5 months until that becomes more than a fantasy.

The first time you feel the baby move, it's hard to describe. Miracle, butterflies, gas, these are all the ways I've heard it described. And to be fair, the first time is a very light flutter of sorts. Now, when you're halfway through the third trimester, it's morphed into a more "rock concert in the womb" type of deal mixed with scenes from Alien. 

I will never get used to seeing my baby boy push his head up against my stomach as hard as he can so it turns me into a pyramid. It's about as frightening as it sounds, but at the same time, you just can't pull your eyes away. Add the change of plane to the stretch marks and it looks like a hillside that is ready to farm.

Every one of these events and challenges have been hard, but thanks to a supportive family and a patient GM by my side, I've been able to manage and scrape by with minor damage. Many tears, thanks to my over-dose on hormones, but I bounce back fairly quickly.

Until the end of August.

When I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. 

For those who don't know, gestational diabetes is diabetes some women develop only when pregnant. But usually goes away after the delivery of the placenta. It has to do with the chemistry in their body being off due to pregnancy hormones and they become insulin-intolerant. Which means my blood sugar takes longer to process.

Side effects can include fatigue, nausea, the baby growing faster than he should, c-section, complications at birth, health problems for baby and mom, the list goes on. 

Luckily, we were able to catch it. Unfortunately, it had already produced some "interesting" things. Mini Myers was measuring four weeks heavier than he should (which is probably why I feel like a whale) because of the excessive sugar in my bloodstream. Now until October, 4x a day I have to check my blood sugar, follow a low-carb diet, and take pills to help regulate my insulin/sugar. Which is fine, except when I get a pregnancy craving for chocolate cake and then I realize I can't have it.

We also get to see two doctors every other week and have stress tests to monitor M&M twice a week.

It's been quite an emotional roller coaster, not going to lie. Though, if you want to have a needle-phobic person face their fears head-on, have them prick themselves with a needle 4 times a day to draw blood. At least, it seems to be doing some therapy on my irrational fear. 

Honestly, I'm not writing all this for sympathy or to scare other women from pregnancy. I'm just doing it to rant a little and share my story. I know various special ladies who would love to be pregnant, no matter the cost, and other women who have easy pregnancies. However, as my GM told me, just because everyone is different and some seem to have it harder, doesn't mean your struggles aren't hard for you.

So, my pregnancy is difficult. Really difficult on some days. But, when I look at that little face, with his chubby cheeks, button nose, and lips like his father (3D imaging is incredible nowadays), there is nothing I wouldn't do for him. 

My life stopped being about me and GM the moment this little guy came into our lives. Diabetes or not, zebra stripes or not, sleepless nights or not, I would willing go through every pregnancy hardship again if I knew I would be able to have my baby. And we've still been blessed, despite all the hurdles, he's a very healthy and active baby. It could always be so much worse.

Being pregnant is the hardest thing I've ever done to date. And that's okay. Because one day, I'm going to be a mom to a teenage boy, and something tells me this will seem like a cake-walk in comparison.

Until next time.