Growing a Baby is Hard Work, So Why Do I Feel Like a Failure?
I knew that pregnancy wouldn’t be easy, but my new limitations are still hard to accept.
For two whole weeks after that second pink line appeared on the pregnancy test, I was on top of the world. This was a much-wanted baby. I was feeling great. I was full of plans. I was eating healthy and exercising and planning a move to a bigger living space and dreaming of little snuggly footie pajamas.
Then, like a falling counterweight, the vomiting arrived with a sickening thud.
They call it “morning sickness,” but I am convinced this is a misleading term that obstetricians invented to make the problem seem less distasteful to women, lest the human race die out once its perpetrators realized just how much sickness would actually be involved. I mean, you can call it “morning sickness” if you want to, as long as you generally define “morning” as “the period of time between first waking up and feeling horrible at 3 am, lasting for many hours, until your exhausted head hits the pillow at night only to be awakened again by more stomach-churning as the clock approaches midnight.”
In other words, it’s all day.
I still went to work. I still went to night classes. I still showered and got dressed in…
