I’m getting asked a lot if this pregnancy has been different than the others, since it’s my first (to my knowledge) girl pregnancy (at least, definitely the first to make it this far.)
It’s a hard question to answer. I say yes, and no.
Yes, because it was definitely the hardest first trimester to date. I was already feeling sick just a couple of days after my first positive test–at four weeks. The day before I turned six weeks, I woke up feeling like someone had taken a baseball bat to my energy level. Unfortunately, this was the same day as my grandmother’s burial. It was a long day.
I spent the next few weeks in bed. Thankfully my husband’s teacher schedule made this possible. Once he went back to school, I packed up the boys and headed to Kentucky for another few weeks where my parents, aunt, and maternal grandmother could give me a hand. I’m very thankful for that opportunity.
It was tough. I’ve never had such a bad first trimester. I could hardly move. I would stand up and get dizzy and (sometimes) fall over. I threw up more than I ever have with any of the other boys. Oddly enough, I also was able to eat more than I have with previous pregnancies, so I didn’t lose as much weight this time around as I did with the boys’ pregnancies–maybe 6 lbs as opposed to my usual 10.
I’m almost fifteen weeks now, and while the sickness is gone, my energy level still hasn’t rebounded. I am used to this. I have never had the full-of-energy second trimester that everyone talks about. I also don’t get hot like most pregnant women–I get ridiculously cold instead. Weird, I know.
So, it was worse than ever before. But–each of my pregnancies has been worse than the preceding one. Anselm’s in particular was awful. In my mind it was worse than this one–I was beyond miserable. I also didn’t have the help I had this time around. If I hadn’t had the help, I’m not sure what I would have done.
But! That’s all over, now.
Now my alarm goes off at 6:45, and I alternately sleep and hit the snooze button until I get tired of it at about 7:30 and just turn the alarm off. Then I sleep until my second alarm for the boys’ wake-up goes off at 8. I really should just turn the 6:45 one off, but I sincerely believe that one of these days I’m going to feel like getting up at 6:45. I miss getting up before the boys, but so far the fatigue wins out over the chance to drink coffee in the quiet of the morning.
Then I nap when they nap, and promptly after putting them down for the night at 8 p.m., I go to bed myself. It’s very glamorous.