My pregnancy was not announced at work until I was 12 weeks, and apart from my boss and one or two people our news was on the down low so it was business as usual (well, kind of!). I tried very hard to keep my shizz together and act like everything was normal but the frequent trips to the bathroom did arouse some suspicion. On one particular occasion, I worked myself into a tizzy searching for a super important document that I swore black and blue that I’d submitted for my boss. I searched high and low and still found no sign of the document or the confirmation that I’d submitted it. My frustration and worry got the better of me and I proceeded to sit down at my desk (which I might add is smack bang in the middle of our office) and cry like a small child. I was absolutely inconsolable and couldn’t even manage to string together more than a few words. Needless to say, it was no surprise when I was gently lead into the boardroom with a box of tissues and a glass of water. Humiliation complete. I just could not stop crying. It was like someone had turned on a tap and was refusing to turn that damn thing off. Will someone please call me a plumber?! One of the lawyers I work for even went out and bought me flowers, chocolates and my favourite food at that time, pizza. I was so thankful for his generosity that I started to cry yet again. After about ten minutes I managed to get myself under control and turned off the waterworks. I didn’t feel as though I could keep things together to thank him in person so instead I sent an email expressing my gratitude. He responded with an email littered with compliments and saying he hoped I felt better soon. Cue waterworks yet again. Humiliation really complete….. Thanks so much pregnancy!
I always had a fantasy about how I would look and feel when I was a glowing, happy – just your standard emotionally well adjusted pregnant woman. Allow me to paint you a picture….. I would have a thick main of wavy, long, impossibly shiny chestnut hair, a flawless complexion, a delightful disposition and would be wearing a fabulous cobalt coloured Diane Von Furstenberg dress that I had paired with some nude Manolo Blahnik’s. Everyone around me would be able to see just how much I loved being pregnant and they would hope for a pregnancy as wonderful as mine.
Prior to being pregnant, I remember having a conversation with my husband where I asserted that as far as I was concerned women used crazy pregnancy hormones as an excuse for their nutty behaviour. I went on and on about how these crazies should just take responsibility for their feelings/actions and just own it. Heh…yep, I’m that judgemental moron.
As I mentioned in my last post, when I found out I was pregnant I wasn’t exactly thrilled (understatement much?!) and proceeded to shoulder an immense sense of guilt because of this. In Carla Dream Land, I’d had a vision of taking the pregnancy test and waiting with my husband to see the result. When the result would be positive, we would embrace, smile and shed a celebratory tear or two. We would then excitedly brainstorm how to tell people our fabulous news. My reality turned out to be very different and it took me a long time to adjust to being pregnant, let alone feeling happy about this massive life change.
From the moment I found out that I was pregnant, right through until about 16 weeks in, I felt sick. Of course, morning sickness doesn’t necessary kick in that early (we found out I was pregnant when I was about 4 weeks) but I’ve always been a person who feels nauseous when they are nervous/upset/sad/angry. I felt sick every second of every day that I was awake and to make the experience even more pleasant I would wake up every couple of hours during the every night to marinate in my nausea.
I’d love to say that it didn’t take me long to adjust and that I enjoyed the majority of my pregnancy, unfortunately that just wasn’t the case for me. It has always taken me quite some time to adjust to things and I’ve never been too good in the major life changes department. Needless to say that for quite some time it wasn’t much fun living in our house and looking back now I really feel bad for my husband.
I felt as though I had absolutely no control over my emotions and wondered who this crazy lady living in my body was. Some days all I wanted to do was not leave the house, hide under the bed and cry. I had an incredible sense of guilt because of how I felt and hoped in earnest that things would settle down so that I could be the glowing woman in the fabulous DVF (or at least cheaper imitation) dress. Other days, things were not so bad but I was certainly a heck of a long way from the fantasy.
My husband tried very hard to be supportive and did the best that he could to put up with the fact that his wife had become a resident of Crazy Town. I remember trying to explain to him that I felt as though I just had no control over myself any more and that I absolutely hated it.He did lose patience with me a time or two and commented that he felt as though I was using the pregnancy hormones as an excuse for my interesting (yep… crazy!) behaviour. Of course that went down about as well as a lead balloon and he was fairly unpopular for a while.
Thankfully, the veil of craziness did lift when I rounded the 14-16 week mark much to my relief and everyone else who had to interact with me. Needless to say, I learn’t a very important lesson which is – if you haven’t lived it, maybe it’s not the best idea to shout your opinions from the rooftops. It seems that while I had absolutely no sense of humour with regard to my pregnancy, the universe certainly did!