I’m totally confessing to something awful, y’all. I’m complete crap at being pregnant. I’m mean, I’m not over here eating sushi while doing bong hits or anything but I think I’m missing out on a big (and important) part of being pregnant… the loving it part.
Several of my favorite bloggers all announced their babies-to-be about a month before me and I’ve really enjoyed following their pregnancies. But, I’m noticing that they seem to be totally in love with being knocked up. They’re doing research, reading insightful books, getting professional maternity photo sessions done, and talking all about how “grateful they are for this experience” or how humbling it is to be carrying their child.
And I’m over here all, Hey! Look at me balancing a soda can on my ginormous belly!
I really feel like I’m missing something here. Why are they so blessed and grateful and stuff and I’m, like, apathetic? I mean, I’m really happy to be having a baby and excited to meet her and stuff but… blessed? I’m not feelin’ it. Humbled? Not so much. I just don’t get it. There are days that I’m still shocked when I feel her move. For me this whole experience has been less insightful and more… surreal.
I’m wondering how much of this is related to my anxiety disorder and how much of it is just me being the total freak that I am. Everyone’s talking about how you fall completely in love with your baby before they’re born and I’m not. I’m absolutely more protective and definitely think about her all the time but I’m not feeling “in love”. I mean, I think I felt more in love with the Dove ice cream bar I ate last night than with Baby Voldemort. Maybe it’s because I was able to SEE the ice cream?
Also, I’m not in love with actually BEING pregnant. Now, other than my first terrible trimester and HUGE weight gain, I’ve been incredibly lucky pregnancy-wise. No lower back pain, only two bouts of heartburn, no false labor. However, I hate the limitations of being pregnant. HATE. It pisses me off that I can’t eat all the tuna I want or turkey sandwiches or hot dogs. I hate how tired I am all the time and that I can’t sleep on my back. I’m frustrated that I can’t do all the remodeling that I used to do pre-pregnancy. And I’m really angry about my crap pregnancy brain – I hate not remembering things and being this disorganized.
I don’t hate being pregnant – I just don’t particularly love it.
Am I the only one who’s ever felt like this?
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