Hello. My name is Mechelle. At 27 years old my husband and I are having our first baby. Technically my husband isn’t having the baby, but he is having to put up with me having a baby which has become a second job for him.
I’ve survived the first trimester and have to say it wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t hit with the crippling nausea that affects most women (thank you sweet Lord). While I have yet to be physically ill, there have been a few days where the nausea was so intense I thought I’d vomit if I moved a fraction of an inch. The biggest symptom I’ve had is exhaustion. So tired your bones ache exhaustion. It got to the point it was so bad I actually fell asleep at work. Head slumped against my chair, mouth open, probably some drool. I awoke TWO HOURS later AMAZED I had managed such a nap in such an environment. And let’s be honest, I felt guilty too.
This guilty feeling has carried over into other napping days when my husband wants to do a fun activity and all I want to do is reach for the nearest pillow. Or on days when my husband is doing something productive around our home and I’m so tired I can’t even fathom doing a chore. Or leaning to reach the remote that has wandered out of my reach on the couch. It’s days like that when I am in awe of women who are going through pregnancy who already have children. You mean to tell me that on top of nausea, vomiting, being hit-with-a-tranquilizer tiredness, and growing a human, you take care of a 2-year-old in the process? Kudos. I can’t even wrap my mind around how you are surviving the day. You must have the patience and love that rivals that of Mother Teresa. Or you have a nanny. Either way…
Other than tiredness, hormones have to be my second favorite symptom. The other day I spilled tea on my pants. No big deal right? I broke down in tears like someone had died. I mean, I balled for a good 20 minutes. Unfortunately there were witnesses to this mental breakdown. My sweet husband. It took him all of 30 seconds to look over at me (crying) and say these comforting words “Oh no. Did you tea tea in your pants?” Really? A pun on the word “tee-tee”? While I’m crying covered in literal tea? Let’s just say it was funny later.
Other than the “tea incident” my husband has been a champ. Getting me anything I need so I don’t have to get up off the sofa, consoling me when I’m upset over nothing, and massaging my butt cheek when it gets a cramp. What? Your butt doesn’t cramp up? Well, lucky you. Mine does ALL THE TIME. On the left side I have some sciatic nerve awesomeness going on, while on the right I get random Charley horses that cause me to spaz out and rub my buttocks until the pain subsides. One day I was lounging on the floor in front of our fire place and decided it was time to partake in my newest hobby, peeing. So I start to get up from the floor and my bottom seized up so badly I couldn’t move. All I could do was make little mewing noises like a wounded animal. My husband, who had been curled up on the couch, quickly left his comfy seat to come assist me. I kid you not, this man crouched down on the floor and began to massage my rear. While that could have been an embarrassing moment, at that point I couldn’t have cared less. Within a minute he had rubbed the pain away. Still rubbing my butt, he looked at me and said “This is love.” I couldn’t agree more.
And that’s what I’ve come to realize about this pregnancy. It is truly a labor of love. Why else would we put up with all these symptoms, nervous breakdowns and eventually pain of childbirth? It is because this is love. I haven’t even met this little person. Couldn’t tell you one characteristic about him or her. But I can truly say without a shadow of a doubt that I will love him/her until the day my heart stops beating. Even if he/she is a (literal) pain in my butt.