Just thinking about writing this post, makes guilt wash over me.  Le sigh . . .

I’ve wanted to be a mom for so many years.  For the last decade, I have watched my friends and family get pregnant and have babies.  I’ve fought back jealousy at times, but overall, I’ve been thrilled for each one of them. I’ve held a hundred babies and felt an empty spot deep inside me that ached to have a baby of my own.  I swore to myself that when I got pregnant, I would enjoy every. single. second.  I would embrace morning sickness and fatigue and anything else because my heart would be so full of love and thankfulness for the life growing inside me.

Well, in my seventh week here, and I have a confession: Sometimes, I hate being pregnant.

Just saying that makes me feel like I’m tempting fate in this oh so precarious first trimester. Please understand that I never wish for my pregnancy to end or for anything to happen to my baby.  I would be utterly devastated.  I pray daily for a safe pregnancy, but I consecutively wish that I felt like I did pre-pregnancy.

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While I am indeed overflowing with thankfulness that Baby Blue is on the way, sometimes my pregnancy symptoms make me forget to be thankful and happy.  I underestimated what it feels like to be nauseated all day long, every day.  I didn’t consider how uncomfortable and awkward it is to run to the bathroom multiple times during work because you might throw up at any given second.  I didn’t calculate how it would feel to have mono-like fatigue, but not be able to tell anyone and thus, get no sympathy or extra understanding. Feeling yucky day after day just wears me out and makes me a cranky old curmudgeon.

My grudging feelings toward pregnancy symptoms are amplified because the initial “Holy Moly, I’m pregnant!!” feeling has dissipated and the reality of a baby hasn’t really set in.   I haven’t seen the heart beat.  I haven’t felt the baby move.  I don’t know if it’s a boy or girl.  While I know in my head that I’m pregnant, it doesn’t seem real.  It’s easy to just feel like I’m sick day after day with no cure and no reward.  Pity party for one, please!

As soon as these thoughts slip into my head, I immediately chastise myself and guiltily say in my head how happy I really am about the baby.  God forbid something happen to the baby after a thought like that!  The guilt sets in, and I feel like the worst person ever.  How could I not just be so thankful when I’ve wanted this for so long?  How could I not cherish the whole experience when so many friends, both online and in real life, are dying to feel these very things?  How can I forget, even for a second, that all of this is because of my sweet baby?

Am I the only one that doesn’t love every second of pregnancy?

Dreaming of the Second Trimester,

Mrs. Blue