As I’ve written previously, I haven’t had many of the symptoms my dear friends have had, and if I had some, they were pretty mild. No cravings, morning sickness for literally less than 5 seconds one day, a little blurry vision for two days that cleared away, etc.
Because I went through IVF, though, and with all the drugs, I stopped monitoring my weight over the summer. I have no idea how much weight I’ve put on over the months. I was definitely carrying more pounds than I ever have in my life before I got pregnant … and then I got pregnant, and I looked more fat than pregnant … until about a week and a half ago. Suddenly, I looked in the mirror – maybe it was the dress I was wearing – and I pulled the fabric tight. That didn’t look like just the hang of of belly fat; rather like someone was in there, a being hitching a ride.
Because I’m a sci-fi/comics nerd, I couldn’t help think symbiotes, though I lean more to the Dax version in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, than those created to fit a Marvel universe. A symbiote generally offers something to the host, though, whether in a transfer of memories, healing, a wealth of experience that can positively inform the host (or negatively in terms of trauma), etc. A baby? Not so much. It’s a flawed comparison. This growing human has offered me so far round ligament pain, lessons on how to properly get in and out of bed (and the bath and quick reminders in pain when I don’t do the log roll move), and some delightful nudges so that I can faithfully locate my uterus and fetus node now by the pain or light flutter I feel on occasion.
Still, one day it just happened: pop goes the belly.
I have these hopes that someday my body will return to what it was before this whole process (fertility treatments and also reeling from grief after grief and some incredibly stressful experiences the last few years). By that, I mean having an active exercise routine that feeds my energy levels and that allows me to enjoy the dog and the husband and our vibrant life. I know I will get to the point where I can’t see my toes, let alone touch them. I just want to be able to maintain my joy and happiness and physicality as I grow to house more of a growing human, because I know that will help him, too.
In the short term, I’m trying to maintain what little energy I have as fatigue is the major pregnancy symptom I have by the truckload. It’s incredibly difficult to organize a class, consult with students, keep the finances clear, answer directorship questions, set up meetings for the upcoming semester, do work for upcoming conferences, get ready for upcoming classes, keep my health up (unfortunately, I’m in an ulcerative proctitis flare as well), while also growing a human. Hence, no blog until now. Sleep wins in comparison to blogging. Today alone I had like 3 naps on the bus trip to and from the Cliffs of Moher (couldn’t work because of low phone energy AND motion sickness) and I’m still tired.
Guess I should go for that 10,000 steps again tomorrow … in the hopes that I maintain some power over the belly pop.
#2of52, #52essays2018, #popgoesthebelly, #twt