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  • Megan

I hated being pregnant but I love being a mama

Updated: Dec 6, 2020

I hated being pregnant. Yup, I said it. I didn’t like it. And because I didn’t like it, I was so nervous that that meant motherhood wasn’t meant for me. But guess what? Pregnancy is just the introduction to motherhood. It’s not the whole bread and butter. I hated being pregnant, yes, but I love the hell out of being a mom.

Pregnancy was a hard pill for me to swallow. Michael and I planned for Addison. And it ended up taking some time and some heartbreak to get pregnant with her. Because of that, because it was work to get there and because of everyone you see, basically everywhere, saying that pregnancy is the most amazing thing, I had this romantic idea that I was going to glow and float and radiate throughout my pregnancy like a swollen baby-bearing goddess.

Well. I didn’t. I didn’t glow; I had hot flashes. I didn’t float; I waddled. I didn’t radiate; I had PUPPPs. I wasn’t a goddess; I was a whale and an uncomfortable one at that.

The first trimester was pretty typical of what you read about first trimesters. I was exhausted, nauseous every night, had sore boobs (so sore that I couldn’t stand to have the water from our shower hit them at all), acne, diarrhea. It was a blast.

But then you read about how the second trimester is the “honeymoon phase” of pregnancy. You get past all those pesky first trimester symptoms as your hormones level out and all of a sudden you get some of your energy back AND you’re not so big you’re miserable (yet).

And that was also true. But when I hit the second trimester, my belly started to really grow. Obviously, growing baby typically means growing mama, too. I loved what my body was growing FOR, but I didn’t love that I had no control over and didn’t recognize my own body when I looked at it.

I have always been an active person. I have also always been confident in my appearance. The only time in my life where I felt self-conscious was while (and after, whoa buddy the after was an even harder pill to swallow) I was pregnant.

Did I love the kicks that served as reassurance that Addison was okay in there? Sure, when they weren’t in my ribs, toward my cervix (holy lightening crotch, batman) or in the middle of the night they were my favorite (and something I do actually miss now). Did I love her hiccups that she seemed to get no less than 3 times a day? Sure, it’s super fun to be in the middle of the meeting and all of a sudden have your belly literally start jumping at the person across from you. But man, pregnancy was just… hard.

It was hard (and hurt) to have my stomach and hips stretch to accommodate a new life. It was hard to get comfortable and have my already-bad insomnia that much worse. It was hard to get dressed in a body you don’t recognize or feel confident about. It was just hard.

And feeling like you should love something but just don’t really made me feel like a shit person. Like I was broken, or doing something wrong, or that it was a sign I wasn’t meant to do this. And that stung even more than anything else.

Then enter the third trimester. I ballooned up. I mean, BALLOONED y’all. And about 5-6 weeks before I was due, I developed PUPPPs, which if you don’t know what that is then that means you have never had it or known someone who has. It means you, and the people around you who have carried children, are lucky my friend.

But let me sum it up for you, it is a rash that breaks out, typically starting on a pregnant woman’s stomach in the stretch marks, and almost always in the third trimester. It is itchy and it is miserable. Well, I was one of the lucky few that developed it on my stomach and then had it spread EVERYWHERE ELSE ON MY BODY except for my face. When I say everywhere, I am talking, everywhere.

Remember that whole insomnia thing? Yeah, sleep was pretty non-existent from that point on because I couldn’t keep from scratching the top layer of my skin off.

So not only was I a huge beluga whale, I was a huge beluga whale covered in a rash from neck to toes, who wasn’t sleeping and wasn’t sure she was meant to be a mother.

Sounds like the romantic fantasies you hear about pregnancy, right?!

Pregnancy was hard. And I wanted it and fought so hard for it. And because I had to fight, I thought that I would enjoy every second of it. But it was hard. And I really, truly didn’t love it. And if that’s how you’re feeling or how you felt, there’s nothing wrong with that. Pregnancy is wild and beautiful, but it’s also strange and an almost out-of-body experience. And just because you don’t love being pregnant does NOT mean you won’t love being a mother. Because, for me, the moment Addison came rocketing into our worlds, it all became worth it.

I didn’t love being pregnant, sure. But I do love the absolute crap out of being my little girl’s mama.


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