40 Winks and Counting

12 Apr

I am knackered. Totally and utterly exhausted. I have never felt so shattered in my life and it’s relentless. The minute I wake up I could go back to sleep, walking from the tube to work feels like I’m in mile 25 of the marathon (it’s an 8 min walk), and getting up to the go to the loo (which I’m doing constantly by the way) feels like I’m wading through treacle. Half of London has seen the back of my throat such is my constant state of yawn (I’ve given up using the extra energy it takes to cover my mouth) and I have to keep pinching myself in meetings to check I’ve not fallen asleep.  I’m convinced I have a fatal illness. Surely this can’t be normal?

Oh but it is. Of course it is. It’s perfectly normal according to the internet. It’s simply another one of those oh so joyous things one can expect from first trimester pregnancy.  I did a bit of research to find out why I’m turning into ‘Sleeping not so Beauty’ (and to confirm I’m not dying) and quite simply, my body is working its arse off.

It’s producing the placenta (such a gross word), my hormone levels are rapidly changing (I did wonder why I have even less patience than usual) my blood sugars and blood pressure are lower and my metabolism is all over the place (I really hope it’s higher. I ate a whole box of chocolates today).  I have never worked so hard at anything in my life. It’s no wonder I’m so bloody tired.

Apparently this will get better and for most women it only lasts until the end of first trimester.  (It returns in the third, but I’m trying to ignore that at the moment). According to the books, come stage two, I’ll be into the ‘blooming, has lots of energy’ phase. I’m counting the days. I’ve missed so much Eastenders because I’m asleep at 7.30, I’m half expecting to tune in in 6 weeks’ time to find Bobby Beale packing his bags for University.

Despite feeling so tired, I also feel completely and utterly amazed that this is happening inside me. How can I be growing a person? How can I be growing something as minging as placenta? It boggles the mind. I want to shout it from the rooftops and tell everyone about the miracle that is occurring inside my body. But, I also want to be able to say “get out of my face annoying work colleague. I have no patience for your demands and if you continue it’s likely I will either cry, which will make us both uncomfortable, or fall asleep. Your choice”. But I can’t because it’s too early and no one can know yet, so instead I grin and bear it and say “yes” when they ask if I’m hungover. If only.

Chatting to a friend with kids about it, she summed it up. “Basically it’s when you need the most sympathy, the most sleep, when you want to say to your boss ‘is it ok if I go and have a little snooze at lunchtime’, you feel the most shit. It’s when you need a seat on the tube, but can’t ask and it’s when you need to not be explaining why one week ago you were the one who stayed out the latest and wanted to party the longest, but are now heading off first in time for The One show”.

I tell you, I better have more energy than the Duracell effing bunny come week 13. But if I don’t, at least I can explain why I have a sleeping bag, pyjamas and a pillow under my desk.

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