For the better part of two years, I did not have ownership of my body. (It was a really, really long two years.)
When we decided to start trying for children, I knew that it would be physically demanding, that I would have to put more effort into my diet and general health, and that I would be limited in what I could do... But I had no idea what the full impact of carrying a child would be until very recently, until I regained full control over my own body.
(So here is my list of What Mothers Give Up. And a disclaimer? It's hard, but worth it a million times over.)
Part 1: Pre-Pregnancy
(This is where the loss of ownership just creeps up on you.)
First, it's a pre-conception check-up, and various normal blood tests and the like. No biggie. Then, it's the prenatal vitamins. With a meal. Every day. And there is also the diet changes; more healthy, more well-rounded, more routine, no forgetting to eat. (I'm terrible at remembering to eat when I'm busy.) And, of course, cut out the booze (easy), and the pot-a-day coffee habit. (I went cold-turkey off coffee. Not fun.)
Then, if you're a control-freak like me, it's the basal temperatures and charting and whatnot. Which means that you start out your day thinking about getting pregnant. Every day. Before you even speak to your spouse or pet the dog. (It was a bit all-consuming for me.)
And then, to top it all off, there is the waiting. And the disappointment. And the exhaustion from the everything.
Part 2: Success
The day when you see the little pink line is great. Great. But it's also when the real feeling of loss of one's body kicks in.
Exhibit A: Morning sickness. Morning sickness, my ass. I spent the better part of ten weeks weakly eating unsalted soup crackers and drinking lemon-ginger tea at my desk, trying to focus on not throwing up on my computer. It was fan-damn-tastic. (And I had it relatively easy compared to some women. I can't imagine dealing with more severe symptoms, ones that last for months.) It was also a wee bit tricky taking prenatal vitamins on a full stomach when food made my stomach turn. And eating a well-rounded, healthy diet is, um, impossible when the thought of eating makes you want to hurl.
Exhibit B: Hawaii, baby! I was about 8 weeks pregnant when we flew to Kauai for a week-long holiday. It was frustrating. Firstly, I was feeling kinda ill (see exhibit A). Secondly, I wasn't allowed to do anything. (Normally, I'd be scuba-diving. And going on gruelling hikes. And surfing. And zip-lining. And eating predatory fish. And something.) Since I was knocked up, I wasn't allowed to do anything fun. So we spent most of the week hanging out on the beach, reading, and eating boring food. It was ok, but it was a meh holiday.
Part 3: The Middle Bit
You know what? The second trimester and early third trimester was actually pretty awesome. I was feeling well, I was used to the routine of eating well and taking my vitamins, and I was feeling confident that my body was doing it's job. (It probably helped that we had been hearing a strong heartbeat, had seen the healthy girl in her 20wk ultrasound pics, I was getting kicked on a regular basis, and we were starting to get really excited.) So, I was still working hard to maintain a good incubator for my daughter, but it didn't feel like a huge effort for these few months.
Part 4: The End Bit
I hated the last couple of months of being pregnant. Hated.
For starters, my appetite through the last 3-4 months of pregnancy was appalling. I was overcome with cravings. I could eat an entire box of Cheerios in one sitting and still be hungry. Once, I even broke down and cried because my appetite was so maddening.
And the weight gain. Oh my gawd. By the end, I weighed over 180lbs. (More than my tall/fit husband.) Which is about 60lbs more than my normal weight. Which I gained in 5-6 months. My body hated me for the weight gain. (I was tired walking up stairs. Or standing. My legs hurt. It just generally sucked.)
And the heat. I've never been so warm in my life. Between the extra sixty pounds, and the normal June/July weather, I was not a happy lady. At all.
And the sleep. (Or lack thereof.) My sleep was getting so non-existent by 36wks that I could barely function. It was awful. That's when my sick-leave started. So I was stuck at home watching reruns of A Baby Story because I was too uncomfortable and tired to do anything. Gross.
This is also when the doctor's visits get out of control. I was going every couple weeks, then every week... And the time off work, the poking and prodding got old. Fast. It also didn't help that Steve stopped coming to pre-natal visits around month 7 - he was getting just as tired of them as I was, but since I was kinda The Main Attraction, he was able to no-show. (Hearing the heartbeat was the only thing that kept me sane at the appointments - it never failed to make me smile.)
Part 5: The Big Show
I knew labour and delivery would be physically challenging. And it was. But to be honest? It was by far the easiest part of giving up my body for my daughter. I was prepared for the work and for the pain. My body was ready to do it's job. And it was only moderately overwhelming for a few hours. So. Yeah. Not so bad.
Part 6: Postpartum Recovery
Gahhhh. I've already written about my recovery at length. Lets just say that between the rip-tearing, the blood-loss, and the boob issues, I was not in good shape.
(This is where I thought the bulk of the physical sacrifice would end. I just didn't understand how demanding being a SAHM, especially an exclusively breastfeeding one, would be.)
(Ok. That was too long. I will whine more tomorrow. Be well.)
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