Honest Review of the First Trimester, 0/5 Stars
Because my first trimester of pregnancy was a black hole of doom.
Every body responds to growing tiny humans differently. Even every pregnancy, within the same body, is different.
Many have told me they enjoyed their pregnancies — that they only suffered from mild morning sickness during a few early weeks, or that they were not painfully impacted by many physical changes beyond growing a beautiful bump as the weeks passed until the final month of general discomfort and aching.
I wish those were my stories, and I’m genuinely thrilled that those women had positive experiences. I just, unfortunately, don’t know what they’re talking about.
I did not expect my pregnancy symptoms to be so debilitating, especially in my first trimester; a period when the outside world saw no physical changes while I simultaneously began the most violent transformation of my life.
All that I am is unseen.
I felt silly for feeling so useless because I didn’t know anyone else who shared similar experiences. I was even given a few empty platitudes like “sounds like a pregnancy.” I felt like I should have been “rising above” or “pushing through,” but I physically couldn’t. My first trimester symptoms were so severe that I was bedridden, skipped Thanksgiving travel to stay home alone, and only ate bananas and Goldfish all winter.
I see now that I wasn’t weak for staying in bed for three months because it was my only option to grow this baby inside of me in the way she needed me to.
Responding truthfully to a question about pregnancy with a less than enthusiastic response does not take away from the obvious appreciation I have for my developing baby. And other women’s varying responses to these questions do not necessarily mean that every person will experience pregnancy in the same way.
I believe that raw answers to these questions provide us future mothers with more context and much-needed knowledge of a shared experience to help manage expectations about pregnancy and what may become of it for all of our vastly different wombs.
If my first trimester were a book, I would rate it 0/5 stars. I don’t have the energy to keep up with the many unrealistic expectations about performing perpetual gratitude. I’m obviously in a cloud of bliss that I’m carrying my own child. But I will still hold tight to my inner conviction that perhaps this pregnancy of mine could indeed feel physically worse than the upcoming newborn phase.
My answer to “how are you doing” isn’t pregnancy cute, but, well, I just feel like shit.
Morning Sickness All Day Sickness
I started puking on week 5 of my pregnancy and didn’t stop until week 13. Did I have morning sickness? Yes. Did I have mid-morning, lunchtime, afternoon, evening, and night sickness? Also yes. I had no idea that morning sickness could venture beyond the morning. For some bodies like mine during pregnancy, apparently it can!
THE JOY! THE BEAUTY! THE MIRACLE OF LIFE!
There is a severe type of morning sickness called hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) that often requires hospitalization. I was never given this diagnosis by my OBGYN because I did not require IV treatment or suffer from dehydration. I was somewhere in between; too severe to be considered having “normal” morning sickness, not severe enough to be diagnosed with HG. Still, I could not eat, I could not exercise, and I could not stop my perpetual nausea. All day. Every day.
Oh, Zofran, where art thou Zofran?
I was bedridden for the near entirety of my first trimester. When I say I could not eat, I mean it sincerely. My breakfast was three cups of ginger tea with a low-dose of Levothyroxine and my prenatal vitamin, paired with some saltine crackers. My lunch was a banana, usually mashed - sometimes accompanied by 1/3 cup of plain oatmeal. My dinner was Goldfish and saltine crackers, washed down with another cup of ginger tea. Those were the only foods I could physically swallow. Anything else came right back up, or my aversion was so strong that I would dry-heave just thinking about it.
I couldn’t have breakfast with my husband because the smell of his fried eggs sent me into another dimension. I couldn’t walk my dog because I was too scared to be anywhere outside of my comfort-zone (inside) and the smell of dog waste was horrid. I was gratefully able to drink a lot of water as long as it was the iciest, coldest water imaginable, and I think that was my body’s only saving grace. When I finally was able to eat a bowl of rice, I drenched it in spicy mayonnaise and cried - it was the best thing I ever tasted in my LIFE.
Some takeaways from this dreadful experience:
My body told me to rest and hydrate. For months. Not “maybe I can throw in a workout once a week.” Not “I’m going to eat at least one healthy meal per day.” Indeed, I had to fully succumb to rest without movement and without question. I was constantly panicked that I wasn’t fueling my baby’s growing needs, but I ate what I could, when I could. I took my thyroid medicine and vitamins to ensure I gave my baby her essentials. And eventually, I trusted my body to do the rest (woefully).
B6 is an elixir for night-time sickness.
Ginger tea is an elixir for all-day sickness. It also kept me hydrated and helped ease my persistent spinning during waking hours.
Tums (in moderation) helped my sour stomach.
Dramamine is a wonder drug. It worked on me for only about 4 hours, but in those 4 hours of reprieve, I felt like I could actually make it downstairs to peel my banana, put on some clothes, and ensure I got a few hours of work done.
GET THE ZOFRAN!!!
Big shoutout to Goldfish crackers for keeping me going when I thought I couldn’t. If you also feel like you cannot do anything except watch every Harry Potter, Hunger Games, Jurassic Park, and Maze Runner movie like me during your first trimester, you are still strong. You are still capable. And I know for a fact that you are doing everything you can for your baby.
Pregnancy Anxiety
Paired rudely with my perpetual nausea during my first trimester was pregnancy anxiety.
Am I fueling my body? Am I still pregnant? Am I going to cause myself to suffer another miscarriage? Am I ever going to feel excited about the things people keep asking me if I’m excited about yet? Are these symptoms actually going to go away? Am I going to stay pregnant? Can I look forward to week 8 if I didn’t make it to week 8 the first time?
I think this was the worst symptom, and it exacerbated my stomach pains, which then exacerbated my anxiety. The endless cycle! While I understand that it may be difficult to see an embryo on an ultrasound, the U.S. healthcare system’s general requirement of a waiting period of at least 8-10 weeks before the first office visit is unnerving. I had a positive test, but no confirmation that my baby was growing beyond wicked symptoms that felt like they were preventing me from growing my baby.
I wanted to know what my body was doing each week, so I read the pregnancy Bible (What to Expect When You’re Expecting).
I wanted to track my progress, so I downloaded a few apps (I use Flo and Ovia). I wanted to make sure I took the proper prenatal vitamin, so I did my research, consulted with my OBGYN, and ordered a subscription that felt best for me (I love you, Ritual).
I wanted to understand what my body was doing every day, so I logged all of my symptoms and planned this newsletter to prevent my brain from overloading. I wanted to find the right doctor for me after exiting the Hellscape, I mean healthcare system, that is Kaiser Permanente. I wanted to do everything! Like always!
Alas, this is the time to do nothing.
I wish we were given the resources on how to manage our pregnancy symptoms during prenatal care appointments before pregnancy. I was already pregnant when I had to start from the ground up to build a base of knowledge (and to save the money, and to find the right doctor, and to research more things after already being overloaded on researching all the other things, and to do what felt like everything in the entire world to make sure this baby had everything important already acquired upon arrival).
I wish, I wish, I wish.
Breathe!
Hormonal Rage Against the Machine
If I’m being told “Just you wait!” by everyone, does this mean that it all somehow gets worse?
Short answer to self — absolutely not.
There is nothing more invalidating than sharing your truth with someone who asked to hear about it and receiving “just you wait!” as a reply. Apparently, being pregnant means all semblance of social decency flies out the window. I would never tell a friend with the flu, “Just you wait until the fever hits!” So why do others do this to those of us expending all of our energy growing another whole organ and another whole human?
To avoid these social interactions and any other questions about my pregnancy that I didn’t have the answers for, I isolated myself. I didn’t want to hear about the women who “loved being pregnant” or who told me to “stock up on sleep.” This happened a lot. Unable to have a firm grip on my own hormonal fluxes, I felt extremely sensitive to these comments and was confused about why if everyone was such an expert, they weren’t sharing comfort or support instead? I was not expecting sympathy or coddling from everyone I interacted with, but if someone specifically asked me how I felt, and I said, “Horrible,” and they replied, “Oh no! Well, I loved being pregnant. I’m so jealous of you!” I knew I could not talk to them again until I felt ready to fend off these types of apathies.
Every new symptom during my first trimester was an exercise in patience.
Patience about this process that takes nine months for a reason. Patience about steadily acquiring the pregnancy information I felt like I needed all at once. Patience about letting my body do what it needed to grow. Patience about waiting to finally see my real baby on an ultrasound monitor.
Patience about waiting for my brain to grasp the concept of patience.
You can do this, I tell myself. It’s going to be fine, I tell myself.
It’s all temporary. Everything is temporary.
0/5 stars for experience — 5/5 stars on it all being worth it for what’s to come.
And when in doubt, Bo Burnham.
Xo,
Violet Carol
Thank you for reading! If this post resonated with you, please feel free to “like” it or leave a comment to connect.
If you’d like to collaborate on a future post, I’d love to learn more! Send me an email with your ideas and we can noodle on creating something together.
Mother Love Letters posts include personal essays, poems, and journaling prompts on matrescence and identity.
All payments received from paid subscriptions are directed to my daughter’s 529 plan to help support her own passions and future education.
You’re a strong woman 💪🏼🩷