Grateful, Sort Of
Given that 50% of my pregnancies ended before the first trimester, I know I should be more grateful to be at 28 weeks.
I am, of course. Thrilled, actually, and very excited.
But being pregnant, at least for me, sucks. I still regularly puke. I am still nauseated most days. I get at least one migraine a week. I am starting to count down the weeks (12) I have left. What scares me is that I am not even that big and I know as the belly gets bigger, things get more uncomfortable.
Walking around pregnant while holding S’s hand in a restaurant led one woman to actually remark that I was “very fertile.” Obviously, explaining to her about the uterus of death, the two miscarriages, and the daily shots I take to sustain this one, was out of the question. I just weakly smiled. Sure, whatever. Fertile myrtle I ain’t.
I am grateful to be pregnant. I am grateful that all indications are that this is a healthy baby girl. I am grateful that I can still get out of bed and go to work, even if I have to pump myself full of anti-puke medicine.
Still, I will be glad to deliver this baby and be done with the whole pregnancy thing.