Pregnancy Sucks (YMMV)

The other day at work the new project manager, in reference to I forget what, said "Not every woman can have a happy-go-lucky, trouble-free pregnancy like yours." My out loud reply was a benign, office-appropriate uh-huh, but in my head I rolled my eyes as hard as I could and said "Brother, you don't know the half of it."

His silly assumption is a consequence of my not sharing details of my personal life in my professional space. It's a blanket policy I have adhered to since the start of my employment, but even if I were open about the details of my weekend activities or hobbies, I still couldn't see myself complaining about pregnancy (of all things) as the only lady in an office full of less-than-gentlemanly men.

So Herr PM doesn't know about my 2010 miscarriage of multiples or the acute miscarriage worries of my first trimester this go around. He doesn't know about the numerous tests and scans following the blood test, which he also doesn't know about, revealing an elevated risk of Down syndrome. I'm certainly not going to tell him about how my back hurts and I'm nauseous and crampy and always thinking about whether this or that symptom could be indicative of pending pre-term labor.

Happy-go-lucky pregnancy? I wish. That would be my pregnancy with P., an easy pregnancy that required the purchase of almost no maternity clothing and included side effects no more pernicious than the usual heartburn and occasional excruciating middle-of-the-night Charlie Horses.

Apparently at some point in my life, I wanted to have a billion babies. Big family. Lots of kids. I think this may have been before I really understood the economic realities of adulthood. And it was definitely before I realized how much pregnancy sucks. Pregnancy sucks so much that I'm pretty sure I'm never going to do it again because I'm not some crazy maternal masochist.

Oh, sure, I know, there are women who legitimately love being pregnant - though I do think that most of those are just now breezing through their uncomplicated first pregnancies. Like I did. So I can't wait until those tiny-ankled, belly rubbing, glowing-skinned gestators graduate to subsequent pregnancies. Until then, I'll just say "Sister, you don't know the half of it."

Here's me, pretending that pregnancy doesn't suck and bending starlight with the gravity generated by my huge mass:


Do you enjoy pregnancy? Be honest!