The reality: it took about 5 months before I saw those two magic lines on the pregnancy test; my first trimester was defined by my headaches, dehydration, and aching muscles, and we’re having a boy. I learned a lot of lessons in those contrasting realities (have patience, take it easy, boys are just as exciting) and now, 25 weeks later, hopefully, I can save someone else from my struggle. I’m mostly referring to the headaches, dehydration, and aching muscles, because having patience and gender contentment is a different ball game.
Since announcing my pregnancy in November, the number of comments I’ve received about rest (“sleep now because soon you won’t be able to,” “enjoy it while you can – it’ll be gone soon,” and every variation) is maddening. I’m sure there’s a ton of truth to it, but what use does it do to tell me that? The only purpose those comments serve is to make me apprehensive about parenthood and the situation I’m already into. While it’s likely very true that I won’t sleep well for the next 6 months, those comments are maddening. Now I’m off my soapbox about that piece of the conversation.
The real lesson I’ve learned is the importance of slowing down and giving myself a break, starting as early as the first trimester. Back then, my stubborn self said, “I don’t look or feel pregnant, so I’m okay to complete 2 marathons, sit in my wheelchair for 8+ hours a day, and carry on with a ‘sleep when I’m dead’ mentality.” And with that, my consequence was close behind: headaches, back pain, [a new and very unexciting] rib cage pain, and spouts of lightheadedness. This sounds very dramatic, but please believe my body was suffering with every bit of that drama. It took me about 18 weeks to adopt the lesson learned, but now I spend the majority of my days taking it easy. I’m “enjoying it while I can,” as they say.