All the Horrible Girliness

We're pregnant! Barf!

I'm feeling a little more girl-power than usual these last few weeks, and it has been good. I'm doing something no man can do. It's hard, and it's going to get harder. There's a certain power in that, no matter the outcome.

It is hard to know what's normal when your damn doctor schedules your first appointment practically a week before your due date (a few less patients perhaps?) and all the "What To Expect" books make you sleepy. So I've been googling around a bit. I ran into a pregnancy journal of sorts that is doing nothing to dispel my morning sickness.

http://www.parentsplace.com/pregnancy/archive/0,,239162,00.html

I'm only on week four, entitled, "Could it be?" Yes, this woman is a "tryer." She's been trying, upon the writing of this journal, for four months to get pregnant. Her first baby is 18 months old. She mentions a long battle with her husband over whether they should have another baby. She was shocked and saddened when he suggested that one baby might be enough. She blames this on her husband being the youngest child in his family and not understanding what babies are like.

No, it has not been considered that perhaps this guy is a bit overwhelmed. His wife got pregnant on their honeymoon, at Disneyworld no less. He has a toddler who is still nursing and sleeping in his bed every night. His wife probably does not have her old body or energy back yet. For four months he's been dealing with the unromantic process of TRYING. We're talking taking temperatures, marking calendars, and taking every sliver of exhausted time they can while little Jacob is sleeping to put it in and fill 'er up.

Week five is entitled: "We're pregnant!"

No, honey. You are pregnant. Your husband is seriously considering banging the secretary and weighing his divorce options.

So few women put the marriage first. If you do this, the rest will fall into place.

Apparently, anger makes me feel a bit stronger, so I'm going to continue reading.

--Edit.

So I continued reading:

I love my husband dearly, but recently I've found, as I did when pregnant with Jacob, that the mere thought of intimate touching -- even a simple backrub -- sounds like work. And the thought of having someone that close to me only intensifies the nauseous feelings. Between the new stresses in our lives, the fact that I feel terrible, and the lack of sleep, the best I can hope for is a tender hug, a goodnight kiss and a warm bed. As awful as it sounds, I'm really quite indifferent to the whole thing.

When pregnant with Jacob I was fearful that making love would cause a miscarriage despite the recommendations of my doctors -- and every published piece of literature. Now, although those fears exist somewhere, they're much more subdued, and my sole concern is that I need sleep and my own space for a few weeks. Still, I feel awful about putting Rob off like this. He's given me such a wonderful gift (again) and here I am telling him to roll over and leave me alone.

Deb, you got more problems than you think. Why didn't you feel like this during the long months of TRYING?

Women neglect their husbands this way, then wonder why the divorce rate is so high. This makes me so angry, I could... jog.

posted by Samus @ 1:31 PM