Six Weeks

Pregnancy has hit. And it’s hit hard.

I thought I was okay in the beginning, just a little extra tired but feeling pretty fantastic overall. After a conversation with my midwife who gave me the green light, I decided to go ahead with my plans to hop a plane with my best friend and jet up to Michigan for another close friend’s wedding, followed by a road trip back down south, zigzagging across the east coast to visit friends and pick up stored belongings.

I kissed my husband goodbye, he kissed the belly, and I skipped off to security feeling great about my upcoming adventure. We boarded the plane and found it half empty, so I scored an entire row of seats and stretched out for a nap all the way to Michigan.

But then… we landed. The plane took off to some other airport, and with it flew away my dreams of an easy first trimester. I sat down in the middle of the crowded terminal and tried to stop the world from spinning away from me while simultaneously scanning the walls for bathroom signs in case I lost my breakfast. I stayed down for quite awhile. People stared, my friend tried to move me out of the traffic, but it was not happening. I was glued to that floor, and I knew if I got up the world would crash down around me.

Since then things have not improved. The smell of food (almost any food) cooking sends me running for the bathroom, which is even more sucky when you are staying in a home with twenty people from whom you’re trying to hide the pregnancy. I get dizzy all the time, and it seems like I need about eighteen hours of sleep a day.

I’ve still got a wedding and a long road trip ahead, so we’ll see if I survive. Until then, rest assured that the first trimester is indeed exactly as reported by every pregnancy book – exhausting, nauseating, and icky.

But despite all of that, I’m still happy. Because every time I run to the bathroom or grab a wall as the room starts spinning, I am reminded that this little baby growing inside me is very, very real.