I Loathe Pregnancy

Especially today, today I’m loathing it good and proper for the first time in this pregnancy. I could take the fact it ruined our summer holidays, how that horrid first trimester stopped me from doing so many of the activities I had planned for Oli’s last summer holidays before starting school. But this morning was just uncalled for. He was late for school because instead of getting him ready, I was too busy with my head down the toilet. The thing is I don’t even know what caused it, was it morning sickness? That tummy bug I had at the weekend? Flu jab I had yesterday? Last night’s dinner?!

I wasn’t feeling myself yesterday evening which was typical as I was just started to feel better after a week of ill health. My dinner consisted of chicken garlic kievs, usually a favourite of mine. A couple of those with lots of baked beans and wedges is my ultimate comfort dinner. I enjoyed it but afterwards I felt myself burning up in the face and fatigue hit me like a truck. The man went off to darts leaving me, and the dog curled on the sofa, and that’s exactly where he found us 3 hours later. I hadn’t done anything in that time he had gone despite the evening I had planned to get on and do stuff I had put off while ill. I assumed I had just gone all weak and pathetic because of the flu jab I had earlier on the day.

He had to help me up the stairs and practically undress/dress me ready for bed, he grabbed the sick bowl and placed it on my bedside for me as I wasn’t feeling perky. I was a right, sorry state, especially when I realised I couldn’t sleep on my favourite left side because my arm was so sore and swollen from that jab. I remained a state this morning as the bowl was put to use, it only got worse once I dropped my wedding ring into it when reaching on my bedside for some water.

The kids were brilliant when I finally emerged from my bedroom; Oli could hear me and asked if I was still feeling poorly. He hugged and comforted me; he’s 4, and he’s so caring and understanding. I’m so thankful his Daddy is such a positive role model in his life, I thank him for helping me install such a caring attitude upon our son. Even Dylan at 18months had his way of helping while waiting for his cereal he noticed the dog’s bowl was empty. He went over to the cupboard, dragged over the dog food and then went hunting for the portion cup. Nothing could amaze me as much that did; we were talking yesterday about how switched on he is, but that just showed me how much he’s grown up right in front of us. I & he had a trip to soft play planned today to celebrate the fact we were both lurgy free and felt well again. Apparently, that plan quickly went down the drain. I’m now snuggled on the sofa with the iPad while he dives into the Lego Duplo box and re-carpets our floor in it.

Nothing can stop me from feeling that mother’s guilt as our days and plans don’t go right like they should; it’s always when I’m pregnant that everything seems to fall to pieces. A friend who’s going through those horrid motions of HG at the moment told me how bad she felt for her daughter, not been able to play with her properly. I told her about how at 2, Oli experienced the same with me while pregnant with Dylan and suffering from HG myself. About how he doesn’t remember any of that, how almost a few years later. He doesn’t have memories of anything like that, what he has now is days upon days of making memories with his little brother. I guess I should be listening to myself; Dylan isn’t going to remember any of this. He won’t know about our missed soft play date. Oli won’t remember being late for school. Just less then four months, they’ll have a baby sister instead who I’m certain will make up for these bad days, for all 4 of us.

 

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