Hello, 11 weeks! I almost didn’t see you there! I closed my eyes against the nausea and when I opened them again I could see the second trimester on the horizon.
The last couple of months have been a physical challenge. With nausea that felt like a cross between motion sickness and a hangover at all hours of the day and night, and aversions to almost all food, simply eating each day has preoccupied me.
I have been eating my weight in fruit. Being newly pregnant in the summer, it turns out, is the way to go: cherries, peaches, plums, berries, all manner of apples and oranges, pears… If it contains seeds, it probably won’t be totally gross to me, which—sadly—has been my main criterion for what gets eaten. It’s a low bar, but hey: it’s better than vomiting.
The physical challenges come with some psychological ones. Being nauseous and disgusted by food yet hungry, the prospect of another SIX WEEKS OF THIS OH MY DOG can be overwhelming. I have been trying hard to stay positive and keep a sense of humour in an attempt to trick time into passing more quickly and pleasantly, but being imperfect, I have definitely felt like throwing a temper tantrum on more than one occasion (and I probably would have if I weren’t so darn sick).
But here I am, 11 weeks in, and starting to feel the familiarity of normalcy again. I am grateful because I know the nausea doesn’t always subside towards the end of the first trimester. I am able to actually prioritize such factors as—gasp!—nutrition and balance in my food choices. My old friend the green smoothie continues to hate my stomach, but I’m sure they’ll resolve their differences soon.
I haven’t had an ultrasound yet, to the surprise of a few of the people in my life who assumed I would need to know if everything is going well. I’ve had to insist that, no, it doesn’t come from a place of superhuman strength. Rather, it just wouldn’t give me comfort because I know that things can always go wrong. Prior to miscarrying last time I had a beautiful ultrasound at seven weeks; the embryo measured on time and had a strong heartbeat.
My coping mechanism has been to avoid becoming too obsessed or stressed and to keep my perspective long and broad: I’m not attached to this pregnancy – I’m attached to having a child, however that may look and whenever that may be. Fortunately, as thoughts have a tendency to become beliefs, I now wholeheartedly believe this.
But it sure would be nice to meet my first child in February. It sure would be nice if this bulging belly of mine continued to grow and grow with this baby. With my baby.