Confession: I Hate Being Pregnant

I’m pregnant, and I absolutely hate it.

Yes, I just said that.

No, it wasn’t my inside voice. I would scream it from the rooftops if it was socially acceptable to do so.

But then what would come next? Toxic positivity.

I’ve heard it from almost every single person that I’ve mentioned how miserable I am to. “You wanted this!” “It’ll be over soon!” “It’ll all be worth it in the end.” “Try and stay positive, it’s not good for the baby for you to be negative.”

It even comes from my husband, whom I love dearly.

“Remember babe, you asked for this. You wanted us to have a baby.”

And don’t forget his favorite thing to say, “You told me you LOVED being pregnant.”

He’s not wrong. Rewind to 13 years ago when I was pregnant with my son, it was the easiest thing I’d ever done. I loved every minute of it, until about 40 weeks when it’s normal to want to evict your baby so you can hold them and actually be comfortable again.

But this time is different. I loathe being pregnant. I’ve loathed it since almost the very minute the test had two little lines on it.

And to be honest, I regret making the decision to try and have another baby. I feel like this pregnancy has taken so much from me, and it’s very hard to see the “light at the end of the tunnel.”

I am sure, logic tells me so at least, that once she gets here, things will be different. I’ll be mad at myself for ever saying something like “I regret this decision.” But right now, it’s the gross, uncomfortable that I live in. And it seems it’s not acceptable for me to talk about it. No one wants to hear about how horrible I feel.

“Pregnancy is supposed to be beautiful, a happy time!”

Ha! I don’t know about you, but getting up to pee every 5 minutes (no, I’m not exaggerating) is far from beautiful. Being constipated for days and days on end is not beautiful. Passing gas in front of your husband for the first time (EVER!) and then 1000 times after that, is not beautiful.

“You ONLY have 16 weeks left!”

You may think that you are being supportive, and helping to minimize the pain or uncomfortable we’re in by focusing on how “little time” is left, but you’re not. Do you know how long 16 weeks feels when you’re miserable all the time? Do you know how long even 24 hours feels? We don’t want to be reminded of how much time we have left. Until this baby is OUT OF ME, I don’t want to think about time in the future. I can only focus on the present and getting through it.

“You get a baby out of it in the end!”

Okay, but is it the end yet? Because I want nothing more than this to end.

“At least you can have a baby!”

Having suffered loss in my past, multiple times, I can understand where this statement may stem from. Having had to console a friend who was due days apart from me this time around, who struggled to conceive in the first place, and lost her baby, I hurt for her and those who are envious I’m pregnant and carrying a baby when they can’t. But hearing that statement is not what I need. Empathy statements do not start with “at least.”

It’s hard to write these words.

It’s hard to admit these feelings.

Mostly out of shame, and because people tell me not to feel this way. But I can’t change how I feel right now. And I think it’s okay for me to sit in these feelings, and not be forced to focus on the positive.