Review: First Trimester

Savage
/'savij/
(of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled.

I believe I was exiting the Sonic drive thru, or entering it, or approaching it, or imagining it, or sitting idly pre or post order... OKAY, so I obviously don't know exactly which part of the purchase I was in, but I was somewhere between leaving home in a car and arriving back home in... the same car. #corndogs #listeria #shutup

None of this matters.

I was in some kind of Sonic process, (can we please take  a minute to appreciate how cool 'Sonic process' sounds?), when I told my husband that I feel savage. This is my one word recap of the first trimester of pregnancy.  Anyway, I believe the conversation went a little something like this:

​L: I feel like... savage.​​
T: Why so savage, precious? 
L: (Growls audibly) 
T: You probably shouldn't have this grape cream slush.
L: (Grows short-notice talons, like such as, Wolverine, and holds them so they reflect the moonlight while making lower eyelids protrude upward, like such as, Stewie Griffin).
​

What I mean by this is that I'm a monster, and I feel utterly and completely out of control. 

"But Lauren! Pregnancy is ​a #blessing and just, omg it's going to be so fine, and no, none of the terrible things you read will happen to you... except some of them! Only some of them! Look at the bright side, at the end of this you get a baby THAT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO TAKE CARE OF, BUT I'M AN EXPEEEERRRRTTT ASK ME ALL THE QUESTIONS!!@!!@!!$!!" (Obviously this person's voice becomes deeper and deeper until the end of the sentence, at which point we all discover that it is none other than Satan). 

Yea, other moms, you are Satan now. Congrats. No exceptions, all of you: Satan.

Onward, there are bullet points needed after all.

• Get up, come on, get down with the sickness. Oh wa ah ah ahhhhII'll be honest, I haven't puked. I understand that may make me lucky. Yay, luck. I did, however, get nauseous every. single. day. Basically it went like this...
  
  Wake up, drink some water. Nauseous because I didn't eat yet. Eat. Nauseous because I ate too much. Wait. Nauseous because I'm hungry. Eat. Nauseous because I didn't eat enough. Fall asleep on the couch. Wake up. Nauseous because why the fuck not, always nauseous. Nauseous. 
  
• Hibernation. I didn't realize that in order to create a person I had to be in 'off' mode. I understand that eyeballs and toes and weird all-over baby fur takes a lot of time and energy to produce, but c'mon. At one point I'm pretty sure I was sleeping 12 hours a day. At least. That's not productive, and I found it to be an incredibly inefficient use of my time.
• ​Whose body is this anyway? I was not as 'up to speed' on the changes that my body would endure during this 'short' 3 months as I believe I could have been. Nobody told me that 6 weeks in I would become a gas giant and I would have to borrow pants from the planet Neptune.
  
  Nobody told me that my boobs would launch into a growth spurt so unreasonable that I can only conclude that they are each having a baby of their own. (I'm up 2 cup sizes and growing. Rapidly. Someone help me. Heeeellllp). You might think, 'Hey Lauren, be positive, I bet your husband is stoked!' You would be right, if he could get anywhere near them. They are basically radiating heat while being as sensitive to touch as an open flesh wound filled with maggots who hiss and whine at you if you so much as look at them. So yea, I'm basically an angry maggot filled radiator. I'm not calling my baby a maggot, I'm calling my own boobs maggot infested. I'm grossing me out, and you. It's over now. It's okay.
  
  Basically, I don't recognize my own body, it's all large and plobby and belongs to someone else now that I don't even know yet. It hurts at random, and I never know if it's normal or not. I have to Google my weirdies and figure out if I'm broken or just experiencing another symptom I didn't know existed.
  
  I've gained stretch marks that make me sob quietly to myself in the mirror. Mirror crying at your own body is very depressing, not only because you're own body is making you cry, but because you're also watching yourself cry, which makes you feel even uglier than your body did. ::Wipes nose:: I'll be fine...
• My mind's telling me no, but my body, my body's telling me... also no. My sex drive left the country. (I'm assuming it drove, because that's just fun wordplay).  I don't need to tell you about my libido and get all into shit that will make you look at me weird at work or the grocery story, but just know that my sex drive before all this... well, it EXISTED. It was real. It was something that I had and I could navigate to in my mind space. Then I got pregnant and my body took my sex drive and converted it to boob meat.
• Senses. I can smell all the things. Your bubble gum, the Bengay the overweight guy in the kitchen has on, the Ethiopian food the ENTIRE company ate for lunch and left on the counter for the rest of the day... I can smell it all. It's like the worst super power ever. I also have the super weakness of not being able to eat iceberg lettuce (or as I now call it, 'dirty wet paper'). Nobody even likes iceberg lettuce anyway. Good riddance, iceberg lettuce. Fuck you.
• Feels. Outside of random crying early on and mirror crying at my own body, I've been pretty even keeled. Except 2 days at work. On those days I wanted to kill someone, empty their organs, crawl inside their skin, and then ruin every relationship they had while I pretended to be the worst version of them. A slippy, gross, skin-suit version of them. There is an unprecedented evil that these hormones like to cling on to, but I can hide it, so shh. 

Overall, I give the first trimester a 2/10. Hands down, this is one of the most unresearched and questionable decisions I have ever made. I don't regret it, I know the end result is this whole family thing that I want. It seems to be getting better, but I will require heavy convincing and/or bribery to go through the last 3 months again. Fuck that shit.