The glow. The bond. The cute belly bump. The big boobs. The constant smile. The creation of life. I THINK NOT. I was going to be that perfect creature who goes through her pregnancy without any, pardon the pun, bumps in the road. My sky-high stilettos would be firmly planted onto the ground, my smile would be brighter than ever, I’d have an excuse to go shopping, I’d appeal to a newer client base as a potential spokesperson, and in the home stretch I’d have the best prize ever ‘ the birth of my first child. I was the Pregnant Unicorn.
And now, reality.
It was week four of my pregnancy and my husband and I were midway through our French vacation. We had just spent a glorious week in Paris sightseeing, bike riding, scoping out food markets and lounging in cafes. Next stop, Cannes for some luxurious fun in the sun. Everything was top of the line ‘ glorious location, five-star hotel, spa services and a pre-planned wardrobe that was sure to cause drools even among the Riviera’s elite.
I slept through the five-hour train ride from Paris to Cannes, even though I normally love to look out the window. Right there, we should have known something was off. We walked into our hotel and the room scent made me want to jump out the window. ‘Honey,’ I said to my husband, ‘I’m tired. Let’s just sleep a bit and go out for dinner.’ Dinner never happened.
Let me save you the details, the visuals, the lack of sun I saw and the sad number of times I ate bagels and crÃ¨me cheese (bagels and crÃ¨me cheese, in Cannes!!! trÃ¨s boring). Needless to say, the rest of the week was painful for both of us ‘ me for obvious reasons and my husband because he didn’t know how to make it better.
The first month and a half back in New York has been no picnic. Why didn’t anyone tell me I’d be so exhausted? How is it possible that for weeks (I’m now in week 11), I was not able to focus enough to read a book? And work, you’ve got to be kidding me!?! Ladies, can we lobby for a national law to give women morning sickness time off? Oh, and what’s this about things getting better? WHEN does that mythical day come? I’ll keep you posted.
This is the true, unfiltered story of my aspiration to be a perfect Pregnant Unicorn and the pitiful reality. I welcome your comments, your advice, and your true stories. And, if you were a Pregnant Unicorn please don’t tell me. I’m too hormonal right now to take that kind of blow.
Anonymous ‘ the above is written by a style expert, host and TV correspondent, who lives in New York with her husband, an extensive shoe/bag closet and a pending-to-be-designed baby room. She’s certainly not shy, but will not reveal her identity until her second trimester. Yes, she’s superstitious.
Momtrends was not paid for this post and no unicorns were hurt in the process.