Since I'd always heard that being pregnant was all magical rainbows and butterfly kisses, I was in no way prepared for the suck fest that was my first trimester.
The first trimester of my pregnancy was about as fun as having taste buds in your asshole.
All I did was barf, cry, sleep, think about sleeping, feel like I'm gonna barf all day, cry and barf simultaneously and cry about being so tired.
I do not like to use the term "morning sickness" because it's all lies. Not only is it not just mornings - it's all the damn time - but it's also certainly not the romantic rite of passage some people make it out to be.
For a while there, anything I had the audacity to try and eat would come right back out to laugh in my face. I was merely a helpless passenger in the psychotic barf-train that had taken over my tiny body.
Pretty much everything made me burst into tears, or at the very least made me weepy.
I would cry during the Family Feud because Lil' Bo Jr. couldn't name three things to do with snow.
I would cry because dog did something really cute.
I would cry because I offered someone some of my gummy bears to be polite and they actually took one.
This one has not gone away.
Every single day, I wake up feeling like I've just run a marathon in moon boots with a backpack full of bowling balls strapped on my back.
At all times, all I want to do is lay the side of my face on the nearest flat surface and call it a day.
The fatigue that has come with the human-baking process may just be the end of me.
And these are just the main things that made my life hell during the first three months. I could keep going…but please, I'm tired!