… or not. As mentioned in my last post, this post will cover a bit of the physical difficulties I’ve had. I got very sick right before finding out I was pregnant with Harrison, but other than that I only had a little queasiness with him. I would gag when brushing my teeth, but things really went pretty smoothly.
Fast forward two years, and I knew that queasiness I was feeling was another baby in my belly. This time was harder. I not only gagged when brushing my teeth, but that gagging led to vomiting occasionally. My gag reflex was hypersensitive when it came to sights and smells, and this also led to vomiting occasionally. I felt very tired, and I found myself getting short of breath just climbing the staircase. The long and short of it is that I had days when I just didn’t feel like doing anything. It was a good thing my last day of work was the beginning of September since we were moving shortly after. Harrison continued going to his sitter’s house, so I had the opportunity to rest when I needed to.
I also noticed my body changing faster (or at least it felt like it was). When I went to Missouri one weekend to look at houses, I found it difficult to zip up the skirt I wore to Church. I was only 7 weeks! Not a happy camper. Granted, I was just bloated, but it didn’t feel good. I’m pretty sure I started wearing my belly band earlier, and those maternity pants felt good sooner, too. I felt like I was getting bigger faster, but when I looked at pictures from my first pregnancy, I didn’t look bigger. It didn’t matter, though, because I still felt bigger. I had a husband and family telling me I looked great, but I was convinced: I. Was. Bigger.
I have been very concerned about weight gain this pregnancy. The first time, I had plenty of time to work out, and I did. I walked 2-3 miles/day, lifted weights, did some Pilates. There wasn’t another child to take care of, so I could work out any time. There also wasn’t a 2-year-old to look after who made me too tired to want to work out. Despite all that working out the first time around, I still had a bad experience one doctor appointment, when I was lectured about weight gain and made to feel like I wasn’t doing a good job taking care of myself. Knowing I wasn’t able to be as active this time around was, and still is, difficult for me.
Needless to say, I look at the scale carefully each time the nurse weighs me. She never tells me what my number is, so I have to ask the doctor to make sure I saw the right number. Then I get frustrated because I feel like I’ve gained too much weight, and the doctor tells me I’m fine. I don’t want to hear I’m fine, I want to know how much weight I’ve gained since the last appointment when I had to ask how much I weighed. (Interesting side note: we don’t have a scale in our house.) It may sound extreme, but like I said, this pregnancy has been harder on me. Unfortunately, it’s not getting easier. More on that later.