I am 7 weeks and 2 days pregnant. Even for me, the one who thinks about this pregnancy day and night and has seriously not thought of anything else since the positive beta, this is crazy to think about. Deep down low in my body, there is a separate being that is pumping my blood through its own tiny heart valves.
This being is barely the size of a blueberry, but has taken control of my body, making me sleep sixteen hours a day and causing me to now detest what used to be my favorite foods. This little being makes me snap at my husband for the littlest of things, and then causes me to burst into tears, apologizing profusely. It has caused me to have a spectacular gag reflex, thereby shutting down any thoughts of entering the kitchen for food. Or to open the refrigerator. Or the garbage. Pretty much entering the kitchen causes me to want to hurl into the sink.
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I am in awe of the changes my body is going through. I actually went out and bought a maternity bra at the advice of a friend and discovered I went from a 36B to a 38D. (Also, this baby has caused me to have no shame and share my bra size with the Internet.) Instead of feeling guilty that all those soft pretzels with cheese has thickened my mid-section, I can gleefully blame it on the baby. Hell, I can eat all the soft pretzels and cheese I want, and blame it on the baby.
As miserable as I feel sometimes, I need these symptoms. I need to feel like complete crap, because that's when I feel better.
These pregnancy symptoms, I discovered, have kept me on a (slightly) even keel since the positive beta. Early in the pregnancy, the symptoms would come and go and so would my anxiety. If I looked at my lunch and wanted to throw up, I relaxed because I knew the baby was there. When I felt energized and upbeat, I got nervous and the obsessive thoughts would start: Is the baby still there? What if I'm miscarrying?
Since my husband and I saw the tiny flicker of the heartbeat at 6 weeks, I've felt a little better, but only because that's when the symptoms started in full force. As miserable as I feel sometimes, I need these symptoms. I need to feel like complete crap, because that's when I feel better. And those who have gone through years of infertility and/or had previous miscarriages can understand that madness.
Instead of taking this pregnancy hour by hour, day by day, I am starting to cautiously think ahead a few days at a time, even weekly sometimes. I keep needing to tell myself I am really, truly 7 weeks pregnant.
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Image via Risa Kerslake
