When I was a little girl, I was asked by the teacher the following question: " In the year 2000 you will be 26 years old. What will you be doing." And I said. " I will be married and have a baby."
I thought I would get married on my back lawn by a guy who swept me off my feet, that my parents would be married forever, and I would probably live in the town that I grew up in and live happily ever after with perfect love.
Well now, 12 countries later, parents divorced, I'm not married but in a serious long term partnership and pregnant at 38 with my first child. I guess all I can say is life isn't what I had planned as a 6 year old from a small town.
Fast forward 32 years to me now at 13 and a half weeks pregnant and all I can say is : What the hell was I thinking? I hate being pregnant. No one tells you that you are going to hit 6 weeks pregnant and be so tired you feel like you can't walk down the street without taking a snooze. That your boobs are going to make you look like some kind of porn star and that they will HURT. Also that your partner is going to want to have a good squeeze, and all you can say is ' If you touch them, I swear I will kill you.' Your sex drive will disappear as the acid creeps up your esophagus for weeks on end. It will be there at night when you go to sleep, and first thing in the morning when you wake up.
Throwing up 8 times a day is also another delight. I remember hearing the term 'morning sickness' and I thought it almost sounded cute. There is nothing cute about it. There have been mornings where I forgot to put crackers by my bed the night before. If I don't literally eat something the second I wake up within 15 minutes I will be vomitting yellow bile. Do you cry when you throw up? It still brings tears to my eyes. Luckily though, unlike when I was six, I don't get my hair in it anymore. Also if I hear one more person say - Oh you are being sick - that's a really good sign - i swear I will hit them in the face with a mallet.
The cravings are bizarre. I only ate fish and didn't eat meat before. Now I will sit bolt up in bed and think, 'I need Guacamole Chicken Tacos' . So, I'll get up, march down to the super market, get the ingredients, come home, cook them, and then not be able to eat them because the smell of them makes me sick.
Oh and smell. Let's hope that your partner doesn't have a good sense of it . Get a dog so you can blame your racid farts on it. My poor pooch is unfairly lumbered with this accusation all the time. I don't know whose are worse, mine or his, and he used to be known as napalm arse.
My sense of smell, however, is now incredible. My own deodarant made me vomit one day. And you do crazy things as a result of it. My boyfriend who had recently quit smoking came home one day, and I said with hands on my hips " Ron, have you been smoking again' he said "No". I went up to him and sniffed his neck and fingers like a Rottweiler( or crazy person - your choice) . And then I realised that the back of his head smelled of it. I said 'How can it be nowhere on your body but on your hair." He said " Oh my God Alison, I was at the mechanics and one of the guys there was smoking behind me." Ah.
I am told that everything gets better in the second trimester. I hope to god it's true.