You don't hear much about how crap this particular part of pregnancy can be because a lot of women prefer not to broadcast their gravid state until having had a scan. Personally, I prefer to LOUDLY BROADCAST my gravid state to people as I see them, and everyone else can find out later. Like a celebrity.
I found out I was pregnant way back in October, at 4 weeks. I didn't feel pregnant at this point, which meant the whole thing felt unreal and odd. At 5 weeks, we told our immediate families. Then my niece came out with slapped cheek, just after she'd given me slobbery kisses. Seriously, she screamed bloody murder at me for two years, but as soon as she gets a horrible virus, she's all over me ;-) You don't want slapped cheek when you're pregnant, as it can (in a small percentage of cases) cause miscarriage or birth defects. So, to the doctors I went for an emergency blood test. I hate having blood tests, not because I dislike needles, but because I am a fainter. It's not deliberate or phobic, I just do. So, I asked to lie down and the nurse said "Oooh, how are you going to have a baby if you can't manage a blood test?"
"ERM, I HAVE HAD TWO BABIES WITHOUT ANY PAIN RELIEF, SO QUITE EASILY I IMAGINE", I huffed. I didn't have slapped cheek, for the record.
I wasn't going to tell the children about the baby for a while, but then they started elbow dropping my abdomen and suchlike, so I told them I MIGHT have a baby in my tummy, but I needed an Xray to check. This provoked the wonderful comment: "Mummy, you must be VERY CAREFUL when you do poos in case the baby falls out."
Six weeks, no change, I started to get paranoid. WHYYY don't I feel pregnant? Except for my really painful boobs, and exhaustion, and weird hormonal dreams, and repeated positive tests. Why am I even bothered by this relatively symptomless pregnancy? Mainly because I had such hideous vomiting with my other two children, and I expected the same again. I looked at getting a private scan, and promptly balked at the cost.
Seven weeks, and I went to see the midwife, to tick lots of boxes, and be frowned at for being a bit fat (NB: I've always been a bit fat). I've been booked for consultant care because I have a tendency to develop quite severe B12 deficiency anaemia in the second trimester (oh yay for that again!) and need LOTS of B12 jabs, and had a moderate postpartum haemorrhage with my last baby. BUT despite this, as long as the consultant isn't bothered, I'm allowed another homebirth, provided the baby comes out before it's 10 days late. Otherwise, I'll be lectured. If you've read this, you probably know how much attention I'm going to pay to that.
Eight weeks, and HURRAH FOR VOMIT! My sister's wedding is an alcohol-less delight, and I'm not even sick on the bus ride to and from the wedding. There is dancing. There is about 12 hours travelling all told. It ruins me for a while.
Nine weeks, and I AM OVER THE VOMIT.
Ten weeks and, no, seriously, it's nearly Christmas, I have a TMA to write, and I would like to stop vomiting all the time now. Like, in the grass on the school run, and in any vessel available, including the toddler's pot. The baby is now the size of a kumquat. I have no idea how big a kumquat is and Google to find out. Apparently, a kumquat is the same size as a 10 week foetus. Thanks, Google!
Eleven weeks, and the emotions kick in. Oh gawd, do they kick in. Christmas is TOO MUCH. The assignment will NEVER GET WRITTEN. Nobody told me you produce LESS HCG at the end of the first trimester, and that's why my mad, reflexive pregnancy tests are coming back less pregnant instead of more. Panic ensues. Reassurance is given. I go back to fretting about the five million things I haven't done, and the state of the house since bending over makes me throw up. The baby is the size of a plum, or a festive sprout. This is at least something we can relate to better than a kumquat.
Twelve weeks, and it's scan day. First impressions are "wow, scan technology has improved a LOT in four years". The sonographer shows us our baby, its brain, heart and bladder. The baby is sweet, and kicks its legs at us. We breathe a sigh of relief, hang around in the antenatal unit for hours waiting for a blood test, and show the boys their new sibling. "WHERE'S ITS VAGINA?" asks eldest, on seeing this. And then the full burden of CHRISTMAS falls upon us gracelessly. I spend much of Christmas Day vomiting, because apparently the baby objects to me ever being full up.
With my first baby, I was working full time. With my second baby, I was working part time and had a toddler to look after. This time, I have two children at school/preschool, and an (almost) full time uni schedule. This pregnancy, despite the far lesser sickness, has been much harder than the previous two because of the sheer amount of STUFF I have to get done every day. This is partly because the sickiest time coincided with the Christmas run-up. I am so glad the Christmas season at school has finished now. Bloody plays, and church visits, and singalongs, and parties, and Christmas bastard jumper day, and extra money demanded here there and everywhere for everything. Ugh, it's been a bit much. But technically, things should start to get easier now. Until the dreaded anaemia kicks in. Hopefully, that won't be til around April. Meanwhile, university work beckons, and the thought of doing an exam at 36 weeks pregnant is suddenly a real and alarming prospect.
May 2015 be as good as 2014 has been!