9 weeks in and starting to slooooow doowwwwn

I’ve always heard the first trimester can be very hard on women, and that was information that somehow made its way into my consciousness despite the fact that I was never really planning, dreaming or scheming to have a child ‘someday’. Unlike some girlfriends who wanted to have babies since they themselves were babies, and who had a working knowledge and understanding of words like ‘meconium’ and ‘swaddling’, I have never been all that interested in this stuff. Truth be told I’ve been so focused on my career throughout my twenties and into my thirties that I suddenly found myself close to my mid-thirties and realizing it might be ‘now or never’. And now I find myself here…9 weeks into my first pregnancy and following in the nauseous, exhausted footsteps of generations that bore before me. I feel a bit of a connection with those ancestral preggo’s, and also feel a wee bit grateful for modern luxuries like wi-fi to help distract me from the ongoing symptoms.

In the planning of this pregnancy I somewhat naively thought that I would be able to keep up with the ongoing high-demands of my career. I also thought ‘how hard can eating properly be, really’ as I purchased a high-speed blender that can turn just about any fruit or vegetable into a health-boosting antioxidant-filled baby-nurturing elixir. I was going to PLAN for this pregnancy and like a to-do list for work, I was going to simply check off the items as we went along. This pregnancy was going to be a piece of CAKE (which of course I would not be eating because I would be so focused on hitting the gym and avoiding anything processed, refined or otherwise tasty).

Unfortunately I have learned that the best laid plans do not work out so well for the first-trimestered pregnant gal, whether she be a type-A planner or not. These days I sometimes skip showering in the morning if I am working from home. I can’t bring myself to clean the kitchen, let alone work very hard on work-related projects. I am about as productive as a wet tea-towel. And as far as eating, I’ve become so unlike myself it is almost humorous. The sight of kale or swiss chard or just about any vegetable makes me consider gagging, and mostly I just want to sleep, eat carbs and sleep again. A simple 45-minute walk feels like an expedition up Kiliminjaro. What has happened to me?

They say ‘listen to your body’ but I’m not sure my body can properly send me specific and accurate messages anymore. Yesterday I was very nauseous and the thought of food was enough to bring me to serious contemplation about whether to puke or not to puke. But, then I ate a cracker…a cracker!…and suddenly I felt amazing. How could extreme nausea have actually been a sign of hunger? Why does tap water taste sweet? Why does my own saliva taste metallic? Just what the heck is going on??

I suppose I will have to rescind my Type-A ways and simply give over to this new state of living chaos theory. I am going to go have a nap because all this thinking is exhausting.