Things were moving fast. My body was changing, my mood was all over the place and I was only ten weeks in. Hormones was on overload. I would get really sad from the smallest comments made to me, even if they were a compliment I would find a negative connotation to it somewhere. I had no control.
It was weird seeing my stomach grow. My little pouch just made me look full. You couldn’t really tell I was even pregnant. I downloaded a pregnancy app called “What to Expect”. It was pretty insightful. It went day by day of my expected arrival and was informative. Despite me being afriad of losing this baby, I kept trying to push that thought out of my mind and think positive. Of course that was hard because my mind would drift back off to negative thoughts and then I would read crazy stories online. The internet is the devil.
I didn’t realize how many different things I couldn’t eat. I always thought pregnancy was the time to indulge in any and everything. Nope. I couldn’t eat hot dogs! I was craving them so bad. This sucks. I read that most people wait until they get to the “safe zone” of pregnancy to announce their bundle of joy. The safe zone is after 12 weeks because miscarriage chances decrease. I still wanted to wait longer. Each week that went by, I would thank God immesnsly and ask that it doesn’t happen to me.
Baby names was on the horizon. We chose the names rather quickly and agreed on most which made it easier. We both wanted a non traditional name like ours but still sensible and easy to pronounce. My boyfriend at the time came up with Justice if it was a boy. I loved it. Justice. Such a strong name for a male. Or female too. And I liked that it was unisex. If it was a girl, I came up with Marley. We both really liked it. He was a huge Bob Marley fan. It just made sense. Of course he wanted a boy, and I a girl. Either way I would be happy but having a carbon copy of yourself is dope as hell I think.
My friends suggested that I should blog my pregnancy outfits. I would have loved that but my baby bump was so small and I wasn’t feeling pretty. The first trimester had me extremly sleepy and unmotivated. I’ve never felt this drained in my life. I never wanted to do anything or go out. I would spend an hour or two on instagram idolizing other expecting mothers, wishing I was fashionable, with blemish free glowing skin, and a perfectly round shape tummy. Also, I realized soo many women was pregnant! I mean, I knew at least four women at my job alone who were pregnant and we were all due around the same time. It was crazy.
I was glad that I had been promoted with a mangement position and was making way more than before in my merchandising role. I felt secure in my finances to save and take care of my child. I was living in a studio apartment, no bigger than 500 square feet. I was thankful to have a roof over my head but I dreaded coming home to my apartment. I didn’t care that it was small. It was a dormant place of past memories from a not so good relationship. It made me depressed.
My apartment had no life to it. No color. It was dull looking and the building itself had some issues as well. It was old and the company was always switching out the building manager. The elevator was constatntly going out, my tub was clogging up all the time, and Winters sucked because the heater bareley worked. It was just an unhappy place to live. I had no will to want to decorate it or make it mine. I had been living there almost three years now and all three years have been unhappy.
You would think that with a better paying position, being pregnant, having a boyfriend sounded like a decent life right? Wrong. I was becoming more unhappy than before. Was I ready to be a mother? Be responsible for a tiny little life forever? I was freaking out. And then my self-esteem was really low. I felt so unattractive all the time. I didn’t want to get up and leave my apartment. I stopped caring for my hair, doing weekly facials, dressing somewhat cute. During my first trimester, you were lucky enough to see me with matching socks. I was in such a funk and was holding it all in. So many times I cried myself to sleep wishing I looked different, wishing I loved myself and had the confidence like others to go out and take the day on. So many sleepless nights and tear stained pillows. What was happening to my life? And was I ready for this new change about to happen?
I couldn’t talk to anyone about this stuff. I already felt weird and didn’t want to burden them with my first world problems. I was praying, and going to church but still found myself………..unhappy. Unfilfilled in life. Out of place. What was my purpose?! I had so many unanswered questions for myself. Even though my situation didn’t start out as a relationship, he decided to make me his girlfriend. It was end of March. I’ll never forget how he did it. It was kinda cute actually. “So do you wanna be my girlfriend Ash?” He said matter of factly. I sat there on the bed, staring back at him and replied “You sure you wanna do this? I know you wasn’t looking for a relationship? You don’t have to be with me because I’m pregnant.”
There was a brief pause. He said he wanted to be with me, not because of the baby but beause he liked me and it felt right. I was happy to hear those words at the moment but something still did not feel right about the whole situation. Or maybe it was just my hormones. So now I could stop worrying. I was in a relationship and was pregnant. I had a boyfriend. Boyfriend. It felt awkward saying that I had one. It had been so long since my last relationship that I got use to being single. Plus, this relationship happened so differently. I made a child with someone. There were no intentions of starting a relationship between us two. What was missing then? I was still crying at night, this was more than just hormones. This was deeper than that.