I’m not always thrilled about being pregnant. I don’t glow; I don’t love it; I don’t revel in staying up late to baby kicks, or being up 3x a night to pee. I don’t enjoy the utter exhaustion or nausea all day.
I do respect the miraculous things happening inside. And I do think it’s awesome that an entire human can grow in me. And I’m thrilled to be able to carry and deliver my babies.
But I hate pregnancy. And this one wasn’t planned. I wanted 3-4 kids, then wrapped my head firmly around two. Donated basically ALL our baby gear, then found out God had a different plan.
One including a pregnancy in the middle of moving. With a very high maintenance toddler and infant.
Don’t get me wrong, I love this baby already. It takes one blue line and my maternal instincts are in over drive. I am momma bear and not ashamed to have them be my life.
But I am tired. And I dislike pregnancy. I hate the hormones. The acne. The mood swings. The food aversions. The body swelling. The weight issues. I even dislike other pregnant woman who glow and go on and on about the wonders and magic of pregnancy. Who think some of us are just complainers.
News flash. It’s not like that for all of us. Pregnancy sucks for some.
Some of us are just miserable for 9 months, and we don’t have to pretend otherwise. We don’t have to appease your views of how we should feel or express those feelings.
And that doesn’t make us weak or less female or ungrateful. It’s makes us a hungry, tired, swollen momma. Who isn’t afraid to express it.