Early pregnancy is cruel. For me, those early weeks are a time when I hope I can eat healthy and exercise and try to feel like myself for a bit longer before my body swells and grows. But the hormones have another plan, and for me, early pregnancy has always been incredibly cruel. During all four pregnancies, I have worked full time and helped care for my kids right up until having my children, all of which is incredibly difficult while fighting the intense waves of fatigue and all-day lingering nausea during those early days.
This last pregnancy, number four, and the last for us ever, the sickness for me was all-consuming. I felt sick all day. I’ve struggled to describe that sickness to others, especially for those who haven’t experienced it. I tried to explain it to my husband a few times and these were the examples I used.
It’s like having that hangover where you feel incredibly queasy and want to eat but aren’t sure you should. So you try to eat and then when you go to take that first bite, you think, nope!, before you throw up. And then later, all you want to do is eat but your body won’t let you.
It’s a constant headache, a constant sick feeling in the gut. It’s fatigue and weakness and misery. Some days, it’s eating constantly and feeling relief while in the act of eating but feelings awful afterward. Many days, it’s vomiting or dry heaving at any given moment—when cold air hits you when you go for a walk, while driving in the car, or during a work meeting while on camera and presenting.
It’s similar to how I have felt after being at an amusement park all day and riding lots of rollercoasters. You feel like you are moving when you aren’t. You are spinning and feel sick to your stomach, and you want to lie down, but when you do, somehow it doesn’t help. The day spins by and you’re there but you’re not because you feel so wiped, so dizzy that you are moving through the moments without really experiencing them.
I’m smiling but I can see the early pregnancy fatigue in my face
One night, around 10 weeks pregnant, I broke down crying in the kitchen after the kids were tucked into bed. I told my husband, “Everything is hard. Everything.” And I meant it. I wanted this pregnancy, and that made me feel even worse about my feelings. I struggled to work. I struggled to take care of my girls and the dogs. I struggled to take care of the house. I took care of myself the least. Everything was hard. When days or moments are especially hard, I whisper to myself, “This is the last time you have to do this. The last time.” Sometimes that pulls me through.
I wanted to appreciate this last pregnancy since it is the very last time I will ever grow life within me. I wanted to hold onto these early weeks before anyone knew and it was still a sweet little secret that was only mine and my husband’s. Instead, I longed for sleep and relief. Instead, I resented the pregnancy and wished, briefly, that we’d quit at three babies. I longed for my fit body and that glass of wine and lunchmeat eaten straight from the fridge. I wondered if we’d made a mistake and if the baby would even be healthy because I was older. I then spiraled into thinking about how awful these thoughts are, especially because many I love have struggled with infertility. Round and round I went—a vicious cycle of resentment, anger, shame, and guilt.
Thankfully, at least for me, the worst days ended around the start of the second trimester. I am there now, and though I don’t feel great or like myself, it’s better and I’m a little better. I’m not sick all day. The vomiting and dry heaving has ceased. The nausea and fatigue remain but don’t permeate the entire day. Some of my negative feelings remain but they are more fleeting and less constant. I am exercising almost daily, and that has been incredibly important for my well-being. Movement has always made me feel whole and boosted my happiness.
Just recently I started feeling the flutter of this baby, and that feathery, tickling feeling deep inside me has pulled me up and out of the fog of depression just enough that I can see a little light. I am starting to picture her and imagine holding her in the hospital when she’s born. I’m starting to wonder what she’ll be like, who she will become. My final daughter. The last time.
Maybe, I’ll be able to enjoy the rest of this pregnancy now that the hardest days are over. This is it—our last baby. And I know later, though it’s crazy, I will miss this. I will miss feeling a baby move inside me and knowing she is tucked in and safe. I will long for this last time even though right now that sounds insane. Eventually, when I hold a newborn for the last time, or nurse a baby for the final time, or watch my last baby’s first steps, I will cry when I whisper to myself, “This is it. This is the last time you get to do this. The last time.”
Thank you for sharing these words! So many of the things you said in here gave me goosebumps. Have always loved your voice & your heart & spirit.
Congratulations on your football championships while pregnant with all 4 girls! That must be a record.More importantly congratulations on your wonderful family.Enjoy!