Thoughts on the First Half of Pregnancy from a Rookie

• Pregnancy doesn't seem much different than early motherhood really, except as the expecting mother, I've pretty much become the newborn. My life revolves around eating every 2-3 hours, sleeping most of the day, and spending the rest of the time running to the bathroom.

• I cannot imagine how 8-month pregnant women run in marathons, or across the street for that matter.  Today, at 4+ months I ran a pitiful ~2 miles, I'm pretty sure I used the rest room before I left, but this child was surely jumping on my bladder the whole time!

• Pregnancy looked like so much fun: The adorable bump, eating whatever you want, carrying a life inside of you! Oh reality, why aren't you so picturesque? This bump is refusing  to turn cute and round. I guess I could eat whatever I want, but hunger is only a foreshadowing of queasiness now, rarely a desire for food any longer. And, at 18 weeks, other than the one time I heard a heartbeat, and the other time I saw something that could have been a baby on ultrasound, how am I to know this slowly bulging bump is not just a result of the Papa John's cheese sticks, McDonald's hash browns, and Double Stuff Oreos I'm uncharacteristically indulging in?

• The first half of pregnancy is like the Fire Swamp in The Princess Bride.

Buttercup: "We'll never succeed, we may as well die here."

Maybe I'm a bit melodramatic, but I've felt this way a few times...

Wesley: "No, no, we have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the fire swamp? One, the flame spurt.  No problem, there's a popping sound preceding each, we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too.

One, the nausea -- No problem, just eat small meals every 2 hours, avoid orange juice first thing in the morning, run from all smells, and have a loved one grocery shop, cook, and do everything for you.

Two, the fatigue -- Drag yourself out of bed in the morning, get everyone off to school and work, then crawl back into bed. If you can muster the energy, send a scattering of random, but important emails, especially replies, to let everyone at work know you're working very hard, wink, wink. Then doze off again. Before anyone starts arriving home, rally yourself out of bed, squeeze into some clothes, (try to fit in a shower at least once/week) and put on a good show that you've been busy all day, so they'll immediately insist you take a nap. If you don't work from home, my prayers go out to you. I hope you have a corner cubicle where you can hide under your desk and sleep most of the day. 

(Co-workers, this paragraph was all in jest, Of Course!)

Buttercup: "Wesley, what about the ROUSes?"

Wesley: "Rodents Of Unusual Size? I don't believe they exist..." 

Labor and Deliver? Ha! (That's still far enough away, it's easy to deny the impending doom.)

To be continued I'm sure as the weeks pass and the bulge takes shape...