I am a few short days away from the end of the first trimester of my third pregnancy.
I have found every moment of this pregnancy unusual. From the moment I had a positive test and wasn’t sure if I was excited or upset, to the lack of nausea, to the pretty typical energy level I’ve had – nothing has felt like my first two pregnancies.
I haven’t complained. I’ve considered myself pretty lucky. Besides hormones making me cry like a baby every few
days minutes, and feeling more short-tempered than normal, I haven’t had anything TO complain about.
And yet, suddenly, I feel like the last several weeks are catching up to me all at once. Today, so nauseated that I couldn’t stand the idea of food. Today, so exhausted that the idea of arguing with my 3 year old over whether or not we were going to go on a car ride reduced me to tears. Today, so sure all I want to do is be in bed.
Maybe I’m going to have a terrible second trimester to pay back for this fantastic first one. Maybe it’ll get me in my third. All I know is, today I want to be in bed. Until tomorrow.
Ronan is 3 years old, Ruby is 15 months old, and I am 12 weeks pregnant.