It was only our fourth day into vacation. I took one sip from my morning cup of coffee and my stomach did a flip and brought it right back up.
“I’m pregnant.” I said turning to my husband who was enjoying his own cup of morning joe.
“Are you sure? I thought you just took a test before we came down here.?”
“I did. It was negative, but that was five days ago, and now I’m definitely pregnant.”
“Ok, well why don’t we go get another test just to confirm.”
“Sure. We don’t really need to though. This coffee tastes disgusting. It tastes like I have toonies and loonies rolling around in my mouth and everything you’ve done this morning has bothered me… and it’s only 8:30 am. Definitely. Pregnant.”
“Okay…. well that’s great hun! Congrats!!”
I just looked him up and down, and muttered: “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to deal with the tsunami that’s coming my way for the next ten weeks…”
I know it sounds horrible, we are so blessed to be ‘with’ child. But here’s the naked, ugly truth. The first trimester is a miserable, unrelenting, non-exciting time for me. My nausea sets in around week 6, and lays me out until week 16, when all of a sudden it’s like the tap was turned off. Not to mention, during the early days of pregnancy announcement, everyone around me is so exceptionally overjoyed with the news, the guilt of not feeling that same excitement is torturous. But I’m over that part of it.
We’re now at week 10. The weeks slowly creep by like my old neighbor who used to lap our neighbourhood loop wearing the most crisp Tilley hat I have ever seen in my life, in the middle of winter I might add. He was like this slow, consistent reminder that there’s yet another lap to go. He would show up each morning around 8 am outside the window, hat first, hands tucked neatly behind his back, with his body trying to catch up with his head. Eventually he makes it home, right?
“Ah morning sickness.. that’s rough. You should put crackers by your bed each night before you go to sleep, that always helped me…” 
“Yeah, thanks tips. I’m on four diclectin and two metoclopramide each day and have to hide my folic acid pill in a block of cheese like I’m giving antibiotics to a dog, in the hopes that it goes down into my body and helps prevent important things from developing… like Spina bifida. We’re past crackers by the bed unfortunately.”
Don’t get me wrong, I know that people mean well, but unless you’ve experienced terrible symptoms that come with pregnancy (which many do, and thank god for the support group) it’s pretty hard to relate.
That aside, we women keep working. We carry on as mothers, wives, sisters and friends and plow through the unexpected twists and turns that Mother Nature throws our way. It’s pretty amazing really. My admiration for our gender grew exponentially when I began dealing with pregnancy, newborn baby and all of the gory add-ons that comes with it.
Women are warriors and I’m so proud to be surrounded by smart, funny, strong women who pull me up when my first trimester tries to keep me down, not to mention a husband who steps up to do it all on days that ‘it just ain’t happening.’ And there have been a lot of those days as of late…
So what started as an onerous rant that I’m sure will offend many who believe that pregnancy should be ONLY a gift to celebrate (and I promise, come week 16… I’ll celebrate), is really an extensive love letter to those who have kept me going these past several weeks and a standing ‘O’ to the other working pregnant ladies out there who continue to carry their loved ones on their back and in their bellies, all at the same time.
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