I do not like being pregnant.
It's horrible, I know. I'm so sad and disappointed. I have always thought of pregnancy as this natural and beautiful blessing that God only allows us women to experience. It's a blessing that so many women desire and pray for, and struggle with infertility. And here I am, pregnant with literally minimal effort, hating it. How selfish is that thought. Sadly though, it's the truth.
I adore feeling Ethan move around. I love watching him grow with every ultrasound, and I love that I'm going to be a mother in just a few short months. This has nothing to do with NOT wanting my son, because I want him more than anything in the world. And I'm well aware (and told often) that it will all be worth it in June. I know this, but that doesn't make me feel better now. Of course I would do it all over again to bring Ethan to the world, but some days it is so hard to be positive. I know he's worth it, but telling me that doesn't make it any easier.
I'm not sure that it is even the pregnancy I hate. It's the combination of pregnancy and surgery recovery. My recovery is painful. Some days I feel as if I haven't been out of surgery for more than a few minutes. Some days my swelling returns. My scar hurts. The fluid around my lungs hurt. The "rub" that the surgeons warned me of really hurts. To top it all off, I'm pregnant. Mixing the recovery pain with pregnancy discomforts creates a terrible combination.
There are days that I don't understand why my recovery is taking so long. I'm then reminded that my body is attempting to readjust to a "normal" with my heart, but also adjust to providing the perfect living space for my sweet boy. My body is so horribly confused on which to adjust to that it gets even more out of sorts and hurts worse than ever.
I'm angry. I'm jealous. It's not fair (yes, I'm whining) that I don't get a chance to enjoy my pregnancy. I would welcome the pregnancy discomforts with open arms that aren't combined with my heart woes. The days that the pain gets me down also really gets me down mentally.
It's not fair that my body put Ethan's life in danger. Why did he have to be exposed to so many medications, anesthesia, x-rays, and surgeries? He has been exposed to so many things that I feared exposing him to because of all the horror stories you hear. Yet I wasn't given a choice.
Physically, I can't do what I want to prepare for Ethan's arrival. I have to have a lot of help with what needs to be done and what I would like done. I am so grateful for my loving husband and wonderful mother that have been extra helpful with those preparations, as well as everyone else. However, I'm angry that I even have to have the help. I want to feel useful, instead of lazy.
I always thought that these last 9 months as a family of two, Jason and I would be able to go and do a lot of fun things before becoming three. We can't. Of course I still enjoy his company, but so many of our plans were scratched as soon as I had my first surgery.
Pregnancy is supposed to be MY time with Ethan. My time that no one else gets to share, where we bond and I cherish this time that only I get to have with him. I've been hurting so badly these past few days that I can't cherish it. I cherish my precious baby boy more than anything, but I sadly don't cherish this sweet time that we will never get back. I feel like I've been cheated out of this time with all of these complications and worries.
I worry about what happens after delivery. Will all of these health issues disappear like the doctors say they will? Is this something that my family will struggle with even after Ethan is here? Have I had my last surgery to correct this problem yet? I don't know, and I'm frustrated about that. I'm afraid of it.
And there you have it. My confession. The horrible, awful, embarrassing unpopular opinion that I have.