Hellobee

As I mentioned previously, my current pregnancy came as a bit of a surprise. Even more of a shock? Just how different the physical experience has been this time around.

Nausea

When I was pregnant with Little Y, I had zero sickness. Zip, zilch, nada. I was that lady you love to hate. I went on vacation to New Zealand from weeks 10-13, and while I had to modify our plans – bungee jumping was out, alas – I felt energetic the whole time. In fact, we went whale watching on rough waters, and I was the one prancing around the boat taking pictures while Papa Y hung over the side and puked. (I still haven’t let him forget that.)

Well, karma got me back this time. I started feeling sick almost immediately after peeing on the stick, and it didn’t let up until 16 weeks. Every morning, it was a struggle to get something in my stomach fast enough to keep me from running to the toilet. (Side note: Toddlers do not let you throw up in peace. And sometimes, understandably freaked out, they try to pull you away from the toilet mid-puke.) Things would let up a bit by midday, when I could usually eat a normal meal, and go downhill again by evening, when nothing would sound good and I’d often end up eating crackers or something equally thrilling. All of this culminated in a glorious 4 a.m. Easter puking session at my in-laws’ house during which I turned their upstairs bathroom into a scene from a horror movie. I’ve never wished so fervently that someone had a vinyl shower curtain instead of fabric.

Left: Looking WAY more pregnant than 16 weeks; Right: Little Y enjoying a “Thomas the Train” marathon on one of Mama’s more exhausted days

The only food aversion I remember having with Little Y was meat, and even then, only slabs of it, like steak. If it was paired with enough carbs, I was mostly OK. This time? Well, carbs were just about the only thing I could stomach. Anything with a strong smell or texture sent me over the edge. You can imagine the fun I had preparing meals for a toddler. His love of tofu was nearly my undoing, and I stopped feeding him broccoli altogether because of the smell. Even cantaloupe got me one morning. Papa Y wasn’t completely off the hook here, either – one evening he microwaved some sort of frozen dinner with shrimp and rice, then came upstairs. The smell woke me from a deep sleep. I kicked him out of the room only to find that I could still smell it for hours after he left — like it burned itself into my nostrils.

Weight gain and the bump

With Little Y, I gained (gulp) about 45 pounds. I barely gained at all in the first trimester, but made up for it every time I stepped on that dreaded scale in the second and third. (This may or may not have had something to do with a raging Dairy Queen habit.) This time around, I lost almost 10 pounds during the first trimester — thanks, nausea! — and am just now, at 24 weeks, back to where I started. It’s hard to say where I’ll end up, but I’m crossing my fingers that chasing a toddler will balance out the pregnancy sugar cravings. And because I never got rid of all the baby weight from Little Y, I just can’t afford to watch the scale climb that much.

As for when the bump made its presence known, conventional wisdom is that you show sooner with your second and subsequent pregnancies. That has certainly proven to be the case. Last time, I could still artfully hide my small bump at 16 weeks. This time, I looked about five or six months pregnant by 16 weeks – clearly, my pathetic ab muscles saw the writing on the wall and didn’t waste time waving the white flag. I anticipate a third trimester full of nothing but “You must be ready to pop!” comments from strangers.

Pregnancy brain

This has been the biggest surprise, I think. With Little Y, I remember feeling like a fairly competent human being for most of my pregnancy. This time, it’s a damn good thing my head is attached to my body. I can’t remember anything – not even the fact that I’m expecting. I recently remarked to Papa Y that I could go for a margarita or two, and wondered why he looked so disapproving until he gently reminded me that I’m pregnant. My son’s animal crackers end up in the fridge, and my wet laundry sits in the washer for days. My worst offense? Losing Papa Y’s keys at the park. Who knew that car keys were so expensive to replace?

Fatigue

I guess I’ll nominate this one for “least surprising.” I was tired last time, and I’m tired this time. Of course, this time comes with the added bonus of parenting a toddler, otherwise known as not being allowed to be tired. I have fallen asleep sitting up on the playroom floor, only to wake up after a wooden train grazed my ear. And I’ll level with you – Little Y has gotten to watch more TV than he used to. (It’s all good if it’s PBS, right? RIGHT???)

So tell me, moms with two or more: How did your pregnancies compare?