Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Yet another joy of...yes, that's right...pregnancy

I never had any morning sickness or nausea since I got pregnant, which I find to be my downfall as far as my weight gain goes. So I expected to never feel ill at all. Never. Ever. Just fine and dandy.

Well, I found out this week that that is just not the case.

For some reason, about when I get to S. Hayward while on BART, I start feeling like I'm either going to faint or I'm going to toss my cookies. Yesterday, I both lucked out and was cursed because I was feeling so bad that I almost got off the train just to get some fresh air. But right when I was seriously contemplating it, a set of doors on the train wouldn't close, and we all got kicked out. Phew, fresh air. Yikes, maybe no where to sit on the new train, I thought.

Did I want to be that lady who made it known that she was pregnant and forced someone to get up or did I want to silently suffer with my two tote bags, lunch bag and work bag plus my giant body and Zit in tow? I'm always willing to plop myself down on the ground when no seats are available and space permits -- but at this point, if I did that, I wasn't going to be getting up anytime soon. I have yet to learn how to steer this extraness in the middle of me without falling over easily or crying out for a helping hand from my husband. Or just crying. Yup, like in real tears.

Luckily, I managed to get stuck with the pull down handicap seat (that I almost couldn't pull down cause I'm a weakling, I tell you, and by darnit, no one was about to help me, so I gathered up my extra reserves of strength and somehow got the stupid thing down). Also luckily, my ill feelings were fading.

Then today I was thinking it wasn't going to happen again, but come S. Hayward, I started to feel ill again. I was with my husband today, and he realized I was huffing and fidgeting and leaning forward (okay, call it obvious that I was ready to pass out), and he kept asking me if I wanted to get off the train. I kept saying no. Then there was a point where I really thought I was going to throw up and so I imagined how that would have went and where I would have done it, but the feeling soon faded. I never did feel better -- not until I got to my office. And, of course, to add more to my pregnancy fun, the escalator was broken at the Montgomery station, so I had to carry up myself, Zit, work bag and lunch bag as quickly as I could so no one behind me would get mad at me and stream curses in my direction.

By the time I got to the street level, I could hardly breath, I still felt ill and all was not okay in the world.

And every time I have these pregnancy joys, I think of the few women I've talked about that just love, love, love being pregnant, and I want to punch them. At this point, I think they're lying and they only love the attention they were getting versus the actual pregnancy, especially the larger women who've told me how much they loved it. Cause if they really loved it, then that means they were just sitting on the couch, doing nothing. Or they're wonder pregnant woman. Cause this ain't the easiest, I tell you.

And it's only just started.

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