I'm exhausted. I'm starving. I want bacon.
Actually, that's disgusting. I'm so nauseous. I will never think about bacon again for as long as I live.
It's all coming back to me now... it's Tuesday, and today I'm 9 weeks pregnant. And I'm definitely about to vomit.
Welcome to the first trimester of pregnancy. Nobody can deny how incredible it is. Over the next three months, your baby will grow to 50 times its original size. It's a miracle, all right, but it's also gross, irrational, zombifying, and nauseating.
Allow me to take you on a little tour (don't worry, you still can use your copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting to bludgeon people who suggest you're acting "a little hormonal.")
First, you can forget about getting anything done. You'll be too tired and sick to even stay on top of basic hygiene, letalone reorganizing the basement. Do yourself a favor and throw away your to-do list, replacing it with a single Post-It note that says, "Don't die." You can stick it to the lid of the toilet so you'll be sure to see it every day while you're willing yourself to just throw up already.
Ordinary smells will suddenly bring you to your knees. A block of cheddar cheese might as well be kryptonite from the way it makes you recoil in horror begging someone, anyone, to take it far away from you. Preferably stored in a sealed container and buried in the backyard.
Grocery shopping turns from a routine chore into one long manic-depressive episode. One second you'll want to devour everything in the aisle immediately, and the next you'll be dry heaving because you saw a can of creamed corn. (Which, by the way, sounds delicious by the time you reach check-out.)
You can fall asleep any place, any time. You'll walk into rooms and forget why you're there. You'll lose 50% of your vocabulary and become extremely annoyed when people are too stupid to understand when you ask them to "bring me the, the... the thing."
Emotions go completely haywire, and finding that your husband has been eating the tortillas you were craving for lunch will make you seriously contemplate driving to his office to strangle him with the empty bag. The combination of your uncapped crazy and your pimply new T-zone will actually be like going through the teenage years all over again.
Except this time you're also bloated.
But in between the exhaustion, the nausea, and the epic mood swings, you really will be blown away by what's actually happening inside your body.
Someday the tiny little person you're growing will have interests and talents and friends and feelings and will sit at your kitchen table discussing politics and college admissions with you — all in the time it takes for you to blink.
Yes, pregnancy is the hardest miracle you'll ever experience. And I'm being both sarcastic and completely serious when I say, "Aren't we lucky?"