NVDAILY.COM | Lifestyle/Valley Scene
Posted August 9, 2010 | Leave a comment
Jessica Wiant: Pregnancy can create emotional meltdown
Carrying a baby is just about the toughest, meanest thing a woman can do.
The body you've lived in your entire life is suddenly completely foreign to you for month after month, each week bringing forth a new and uncomfortable condition -- nausea, swelling, back pain, acne, heartburn and many, many more.
To finish it off, there is the actual delivery, which as much as you fear, you look forward to at least a little because you have hope that (aside from the obvious bundle of joy) it will bring an end to all that discomfort.
Little do you know the postpartum period has its own set of harrowing symptoms.
All mothers deserve a medal, in my book.
Even in our toughest moments, pregnancy has the mysterious power of turning us into mush.
This happened to me plenty of times while I was pregnant last year with my son.
One particularly gorgeous, early summer morning, I was driving to work with the windows down, letting in the fresh air and thinking about all the exciting things to come, when John Denver's soothing voice came across the airwaves singing "Sunshine on My Shoulders."
There I was on my own sunny morning, and the future was looking bright -- and that guitar, so simple and so beautiful.
Before I knew it, I was crying.
Another incident will go down in history as the only time a fish sandwich brought me to tears.
It was in the early weeks of my pregnancy, when I was just beginning to be too wiped out to cook, that my husband offered to pick up dinner.
It was also the time of year for Lent, and the plethora of seafood combos that inevitably come with it.
For whatever reason (maybe it was the hormones), the Wendy's fish sandwich commercial had me hooked.
I'd been saying for several days I wanted a fillet-of-fish on a bun.
Morning sickness soon reared its ugly head, however, and any mother will tell you how bad a name "morning sickness" is.
In my case, it was presenting itself as nonstop nausea, made worse by a heightened sense of smell that made even ice cubes off limits.
My pleasant morning commutes were replaced by sweating spells and the mantra "Just make it to the parking lot. Just make it to the parking lot."
Food lost its appeal completely.
So, when I opened the door that fateful evening and was confronted with the smell of fried fish, I lost it.
Sputtering and sobbing, I explained to my husband (who was utterly confused by the onslaught of tears) that it was so sweet of him to remember I'd been wanting fish, but the smell of it made me want to hurl.
He was being so nice, but I couldn't eat the sandwich. I couldn't even be in the same room as the sandwich. For whatever reason, I found it all too much to bear.
Luckily, the nausea didn't last more than a few weeks and soon enough I was eating again -- but I still haven't attempted another fish sandwich and the tears just kept coming.
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