I don't like being pregnant.
There, I said it. Despite spending four years wanting nothing more than to be pregnant, the reality is not what I was expecting. I thought I would be gorgeous and glowing, rocking the latest in maternity fashion, tenderly caressing my bump while sporting long and lush pregnancy hair. But in truth, I am uncomfortable, constantly sick, so tired that I sleep all weekend, and have had a headache for 16 weeks. And pregnancy hair? It's on my upper lip, not on my head.
But cursed is the pregnant IVFer who dare speak a single negative word about her 'condition' once she gets that magic Big Fat Positive. Branded an “IVF Forgetter”, she is considered a traitor to those who are yet to conceive or have made the decision to live childfree, but not by choice. I know, because I used to hate on any pregnant woman who complained about morning sickness. I was so ready for it and couldn't wait to experience the heaving and upchucking, secure in the knowledge that it was all for a good cause.
But in real life, there is nothing even slightly comforting about vomiting ten times before 7am, then passing out. Being admitted to hospital for rehydration and living on a cocktail of anti-emetic pills is not fun. And the needles didn't stop with IVF either, with my husband now an expert at administering Stemetil deep into the muscle of my backside. Not that it helps. And the headaches. I have been unlucky enough to suffer from migraines since my early 20s, and pregnancy exacerbates them. My headaches have been so bad, that I temporarily lost the sight in my left eye, but there's no popping of an Imigrain or other prescription migraine meds. Codeine helps a bit, but it's only temporary.
A comment left on my previous blog post prompted me to write this entry.
'Thegalwho', I would LOVE to be able to enjoy this. I have wanted it for so long and I envy those women who have happy, trouble free pregnancies, but please don't take my lack of enthusiasm over my pregnancy personally. I'm not being pathetic, and I'm not forgetting for a second the pain and longing during the journey to get here, but sometime between the seventh and tenth vomit of the morning, I have, to my shame and absolute horror, wondered if it was all going to be worth it. Physically, IVF was a walk in the park compared to this. Even being admitted to hospital in agonising pain after complications with an egg retrieval is preferable to going in with hyperemesis. This will be my only pregnancy, and I am angry that I haven't been able to enjoy it. The Gods could at least smile on the sub-fertile after having such a struggle to get here in the first place.
Everyone tells me that it will get better, and I bloody well hope so, but for now, I keep focussed on the prize at the end. It can't come soon enough.
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I thought I would be gorgeous and glowing, rocking the latest in maternity fashion, tenderly caressing my bump while sporting long and lush pregnancy hair.