But I Can't Complain...

My mother, who I adore, has a habit of saying, “But I can’t complain…” The trouble is she usually says this after a half hour of complaining.

Lately, I feel like I’m turning into my mother.

This Friday, I will be thirteen weeks pregnant. I still can’t believe it. Every time I get a sonogram and see someone in there literally waving at me, I’m amazed. After two and a half years of seeing nothing but blank empty space, it just never gets old. I love my OB/GYN, our NT scan went well, the baby seems to be healthy (we get the NT blood test results this week) and so far, things are going along as they should.

When you’ve struggled with infertility and you want nothing more than to be pregnant, you can’t imagine ever being bothered by even the worst symptoms of pregnancy. I find myself in the position now where it doesn't just feel ungrateful but it feels so incredibly sh*tty to complain. I worked so hard and spent so much money for this pregnancy that it isn't just that I can't complain, I feel like don't have the right to!

When I was nauseous the first week or so, I actually thought it was adorable. The next week, when I couldn’t eat anything that wasn’t beige (toast, crackers, bananas, etc.); I said to myself, “Well, you’ve spent good money on this nausea! I might as well enjoy it!” When I started throwing up one to two times a day during a heat wave in New York, I desperately wanted to whine but instead, I renewed my commitment to not complain. I just started to bring water, gum and plastic bags with me and vowed to keep my sense of humor.

Then, one time, when I threw up and peed on myself, I began to stop laughing. I was kneeling down on my bathroom floor over the toilet and I peed right on our bathroom area rug. The frog embroidered on the rug still smiled but I knew he felt degraded. I immediately took the rug, soaked it in hot water and took a shower. The trouble is when I stepped out of the shower, because there was no rug, I slipped. Luckily, I didn’t completely fall but both my pride and feelings of attractiveness went down the toilet right along with my flavorless mashed potato dinner. You don’t know how humiliating it is when your husband asks you what happened to the bathroom rug and you have to tell him, “Ummm, yeah. I had an accident.” I’m sorry to say this wouldn’t be the only time this would happen.

When your wife is throwing up and peeing on a daily basis, it’s a mood killer. My husband loves me but to say he backed off from me physically is an understatement. I can’t blame him though. The only way these fabulous new traits would EVER be a turn on would be if you were into German porn.

Over the course of the past few weeks, I’ve thrown up in pretty much every bathroom in a ten mile radius of my home. I would be remiss if I didn’t add here that if you’re ever in this situation, do all that you can to avoid throwing up at the bathrooms in Penn Station, New York. The smell alone will not help your cause.

Almost impressively, despite my inability to hold on to much food these days, I’ve also managed to gain seven pounds. My doctor says that this is actually common with women who deal with morning sickness as they tend to eat more carbohydrates. After years of infertility treatments, hormone injections, progesterone and now pregnancy, I have become a permanent version of a bloated dying Elvis.

Adding to my already poor body image, my mother bought me some maternity clothes from the Salvation Army. I tried some on this past weekend and there were quite a few that made me look like I was a sugar mamma wearing a moo moo by the pool at my condo in Miami Beach while hitting on the pool boy.

I feel unattractive, I miss seeing color in my food, my underwear is tight and I feel like I’ve had the stomach flu for two solid months now. Every morning, my mantra is, “Just try not to throw up on anyone who decides what your year end bonus should be.”

I hate writing all of this and I’m sure there are some of you who are following this blog and who are trying to get pregnant who want to now strangle me (that is if you actually made it through this sad, whiny post). Here’s the thing though: I WANT TO STRANGLE ME TOO. I am annoying myself as I truly am over the moon about this pregnancy. I am grateful, humbled and deeply appreciative of every milestone and every second this pregnancy has brought me.

The fact remains though that I have genuinely tried every trick, every rationale, every pep talk and every wive's tale to get through this morning sickness that lasts well past the morning and it still sucks total ass. My doctor said that it usually eases up anywhere in between twelve to fourteen weeks and dear god, I really hope that’s true.

But really, I can’t complain…