I always wanted to have children. I had this idea that I couldn't possibly ever come to realize why I am the way I am unless I gave birth to children and watched how they evolved.
When I got pregnant with my first child I imagined only beautiful and amazing things happening to my body. I couldn't wait to walk into a Motherhood store and buy up a bunch of cute A-line tops to match the idea in my head about what my growing body was going to look like. Birds were chirping, flowers were blooming, life was great and getting better all because I was bringing a life into this world.
You know that sound a needle makes as it scratches the surface of a record and not in the way a DJ can make it sound? That's how quickly all of my ideals of pregnancy fell apart. I was only eight weeks into my first pregnancy before I was forced to accept that I'm not a good candidate for pregnancy after all.
My husband likes to tell this one story about how pregnancy affected me.
From my husband's point of view the story goes likes this:
"One day I came home from work and when I opened the front door all I see is Patty sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV with popcorn and candy wrappers all over the floor around her. She was rocking back and forth holding her stomach and moaning, 'I feel so sick.' I said, 'Well, yeah, look what you've been eating!'"
Here's the story from my point of view:
First off, I don't like to be nauseas or to throw up. In the event I find myself feeling ill, I will do anything not to throw up. It just so happened that because I had already been feeling ill for a few weeks already, I knew that with pregnancy I needed to find something to eat and fast. At the time, I could not open the cupboard and find just anything to put in my mouth. I had to find something that I could fathom putting in my mouth. This was a long process of analyzing the food before I pulled it from the shelf. I had to take into account the size, shape and color of the food that I was going to put in my mouth. Once I could find something in that category that I was okay with, I had to consider the texture and smell of it before I moved onto whether or not it had the right amount of saltiness or sweetness to hopefully hold back the impending vomit.
On this particular day, thirty minutes before my husband walked through the front door, I had just decided on various types of candy that had been left over from Halloween. After I ate five or ten pieces (give or take a few) of candy, my morning sickness wasn't getting any better, it was in fact getting worse. I thought to myself, I need to counteract the sweetness with something salty. That's where the popcorn comes in. I pop myself some microwaveable popcorn and sit back down on the floor in front of the TV with the bag of popcorn on my lap. The smell of the popcorn was only making matters worse, so I figured I should just start shoving the popcorn into my mouth, hoping that by doing so, I would start to forget the smell and the yummy, buttery, salt lick would work faster than a Tums on heartburn. I was clearly wrong here. I did not feel any better. Still, not wanting to throw up, I laid down with the bag of popcorn next to me and started rocking back and forth, fending off the violent nature of pregnancy. That's when my husband came home from work.
I won the fight that day. I never did throw up, but I had many more days like it that didn't go over so smoothly.
When I got pregnant with my first child I imagined only beautiful and amazing things happening to my body. I couldn't wait to walk into a Motherhood store and buy up a bunch of cute A-line tops to match the idea in my head about what my growing body was going to look like. Birds were chirping, flowers were blooming, life was great and getting better all because I was bringing a life into this world.
You know that sound a needle makes as it scratches the surface of a record and not in the way a DJ can make it sound? That's how quickly all of my ideals of pregnancy fell apart. I was only eight weeks into my first pregnancy before I was forced to accept that I'm not a good candidate for pregnancy after all.
My husband likes to tell this one story about how pregnancy affected me.
From my husband's point of view the story goes likes this:
"One day I came home from work and when I opened the front door all I see is Patty sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV with popcorn and candy wrappers all over the floor around her. She was rocking back and forth holding her stomach and moaning, 'I feel so sick.' I said, 'Well, yeah, look what you've been eating!'"
Here's the story from my point of view:
First off, I don't like to be nauseas or to throw up. In the event I find myself feeling ill, I will do anything not to throw up. It just so happened that because I had already been feeling ill for a few weeks already, I knew that with pregnancy I needed to find something to eat and fast. At the time, I could not open the cupboard and find just anything to put in my mouth. I had to find something that I could fathom putting in my mouth. This was a long process of analyzing the food before I pulled it from the shelf. I had to take into account the size, shape and color of the food that I was going to put in my mouth. Once I could find something in that category that I was okay with, I had to consider the texture and smell of it before I moved onto whether or not it had the right amount of saltiness or sweetness to hopefully hold back the impending vomit.
On this particular day, thirty minutes before my husband walked through the front door, I had just decided on various types of candy that had been left over from Halloween. After I ate five or ten pieces (give or take a few) of candy, my morning sickness wasn't getting any better, it was in fact getting worse. I thought to myself, I need to counteract the sweetness with something salty. That's where the popcorn comes in. I pop myself some microwaveable popcorn and sit back down on the floor in front of the TV with the bag of popcorn on my lap. The smell of the popcorn was only making matters worse, so I figured I should just start shoving the popcorn into my mouth, hoping that by doing so, I would start to forget the smell and the yummy, buttery, salt lick would work faster than a Tums on heartburn. I was clearly wrong here. I did not feel any better. Still, not wanting to throw up, I laid down with the bag of popcorn next to me and started rocking back and forth, fending off the violent nature of pregnancy. That's when my husband came home from work.
I won the fight that day. I never did throw up, but I had many more days like it that didn't go over so smoothly.
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