After the same ad kept reappearing on my Facebook feed almost daily, I decided to click the “hide” option. It wasn’t just that it continued to pop up on my feed that irritated me—I also couldn’t stand what it said.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love being pregnant,” the sponsored ad said, “but it isn’t always a walk in the park.”
What was it about that line that got under my skin so much? Well, what if you don’t “love being pregnant?” I thought to myself. Why do you need to caveat that you love being pregnant before talking about uncomfortable changes and aches to your body? What is it that makes us as women feel like we have to say we love being pregnant, whether we do or not? Like we’re some monster if we scream from the rooftop,
I HATE BEING PREGNANT!
Clearly, that must mean that you’re a horrible person who doesn’t deserve to be pregnant in the first place, let alone experience the miracle of life at the end of the 40 long weeks.
Maybe the woman in the post truly loves being pregnant. I know those mythical creatures exist. I’m, however, not one of them.
While I had next to zero complaints or problems during my first pregnancy—until of course the very end when no one in their right mind can be comfortable that size—I still hated it. I hated the feeling of being out of control of my body as it changed in ways I could never imagine. I hated feeling like I was sharing my body with someone, but most of the time it felt more like something.
“When he starts to kick, it will feel real to you, and you’ll love it,” friends told me.
I must admit, when it happened I was legitimately freaked out. Was this a baby inside me or an alien? Only time would tell.
With this pregnancy, I thought surely I would feel differently. Now that I’ve confirmed that it was not in fact an alien and experienced the joy of my son, I thought for sure I wouldn’t feel like I had a foreign visitor inside of me this time.
I still feel weird about it. And it’s not just that. This pregnancy hasn’t been an easy go around. Perhaps it’s the old wives tale of girl vs boy, but my first trimester was wrought with morning sickness and exhaustion not to mention enough tears to fill the Atlantic Ocean. I’m also not one of those women who feels the most beautiful she’s ever felt when she’s pregnant. You’ve heard of those people, right? You know, the ones who are glowing.
I’m here to tell you that passing gas without so much as a two second warning or peeing a little when you sneeze are about the last things that make you feel sexy.
Oh, and remember that blog post I wrote bidding farewell to my voluptuous breasts when I stopped nursing? Well, they’re back. In full force. And don’t even get me started on what my nipples look like.
So why am I putting myself through this again, you ask? You see, the thing is, it really is all worth it in the end. The moment you see your baby for the first time tops my list as the most incredible moment in my life. Bringing Baby A into this world is my proudest accomplishment, and I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to do it again in just a few months when we meet our baby girl for the first time. (Someone remind me of this post when I’m several hours into labor hating life and wanting to give up, okay?)
I love the end result, but I’ll be damned if I tell you that I love being pregnant.