I always thought that I would be the joyful, radiant, full-of-life kind of pregnant woman. You know the kind with beautiful energy and a warm spirit?

It turns out, I was wrong. The complete opposite, in fact. I am the kind of pregnant woman who does this…A LOT!

THIS BABY IS SUCKING THE JOY, RADIANCE AND LIFE RIGHT OUT OF ME!

And it’s not pretty.

Back in my twenties and early thirties I would have TOTALLY judged a woman like me. I would have been jealous that she was pregnant and I wasn’t, and I would have felt resentful that she had the audacity to complain about it.

“What an ungrateful bitch!”

But now, here I am, 38 years old, 8 weeks pregnant lying on the couch (at least I’m awake for the moment) wishing I had the energy to do something, ANYTHING productive, with a mouth full of black feathers that taste like crow.

I am THAT woman. I am whiny and bitchy and hungry and tired and miserable– 24/7.

Instead of feeling excited and unstoppable, I feel like–

“What the hell have I done?”

And

“Good gawd I need a fricken nap! AGAIN!”

And

“NOTHING FITS! I’m never leaving my house again!”

My life has gone from “I can do ANYTHING!” to “All I can do is eat, pee and sleep.” And then feel guilty for only accomplishing those three things each day.

Who am I?

It has become obvious that all of the blood is my body is going directly to my uterus and none of it is getting anywhere else, including my brain. This fetus has taken over all of my extremities, my bodily functions and my mind! Not only do I no longer have control over when I eat, pee and sleep, but I have also lost control of what I think, feel and say.

I have lost my ability to complete a thought, think of normal everyday words, discern between appropriate and inappropriate, and filter what comes out of my mouth. I am thinking things I never would have thought before, things like, “how dare you ring up my pumpkin before I swiped my Very Important Customer card,” while checking out at the grocery store, using every ounce of what’s left of my sanity to talk myself out of going off on the poor cashier because she did it in the wrong order.  

I am making posts and comments in social media that I’m pretty sure I would normally keep to myself. And I’m constantly fighting with myself over my OWN rules for living an “I’mperfect Life,” especially rule number 1– Forgive yourself when you don’t meet your expectations.

Hold on, while I cry about this…

HORMONES! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Oh the tears!

But with the tears come laughter, because let’s face it, I’m being completely irrational and this is completely normal. Right?

I am pregnant and all of these stereotypical feelings and behaviors that I am going through are like a rite of passage. RIGHT?!??!  I am experiencing what 100’s of millions of women have gone through before me and 100’s of millions of women will go through after me…RIGHT?!?!

RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!

Gah!

Fortunately, for my sake, I am surrounded by amazing women who are so incredibly loving and supportive, even with all of my non-stop complaining.

Though, I feel pretty certain that if the roles were reversed I’d just want to shake me and be like, “Get your shit together Andrea! You are not some precious snowflake who is the only one in the world who got tired and hungry and peed a lot while pregnant!”

Maybe it will come to that. If it does, I will try to remind myself that they are right and not get all butt hurt about it. But, let’s be honest, the chances of that happening are pretty slim.  Instead I will probably cry myself to sleep under the covers with a sandwich and a chocolate bar.

One day at a time.

58 down 222 to go!

But who’s counting?

Here’s hoping I follow the pattern of “stereotypical” and that my second trimester is wonderfully bright, energetic and full of productivity. Homie’s got stuff to do!

26 days till the second trimester.

Fingers crossed.

But first, a nap.