Pregnancy, S. Burns Style

So I've read, every pregnancy is different. I've seen bunches of pregnant women. Tens, even. You know what pregnancy looks like from the outside? Cute. It looks cute. It gets a girl thinking, "I could do that! I WILL do that! And you get a baby at the end of all that cute? What a deal!"

I'm 15 weeks in. I'm still searching for cuteness. Oh, I'll sell the cuteness. I'm all grins and giggles and excitement. Because, let's face it, I AM excited. I'm continually optimistic that THIS DAY, today, is the last day I'll experience these pesky symptoms. I've been pretty sure that I've been in a calm period lately, you know, things are really starting to settle down. Now, I'm pretty sure that I've been lying to myself. As I'm throwing up, even. Optimism... is that a symptom?

Here's a quick run-down of my symptoms:
1. Pain. Oh yes. PAIN. My uterus feels like it is trying to escape my body even as I type. I can't button my jeans. Not because of a pooch, but because if anything touches sensi-utero, I beg for mercy. I thought one's pooch is fascinatingly rigid, heck, I've poked on those stuffed uteri myself. I thought that stone-like mass was preventing proper pants closure. Not for me, noooo. It's the pain associated with the buttoning, especially if I manage to get them buttoned then sit down. YOWZA. Unbuttoned post-haste. Also, I can't walk more than 300 yards without stopping to let my uterus rest. YOU READ THAT RIGHT. Exercise is out of the question. Not to worry, though... over-consuming is NOT a problem.
Level of symptom: those girls that used to sit out of gym class in high school. I get it now, I'm sorry for thinking you were a sissy.
2. Inability to eat for two. Isn't pregnancy supposed to be that time where you can eat whatever you want and not feel guilty? I can't eat anything. Oh I'm hungry, mind you. I'm hungry now. What do I want to eat? You name it, then suddenly, I can't eat it. This is a pesky symptom. There is one restaurant: closed on Sundays, with a red and white color scheme, founded by L. Truett Cathy. I cannot eat there. I cannot let Mikeburns eat there. One of my students came to class with food from there and I had to ask her to leave the room. I used to LOVE that place. Now, the husband knows better than to suggest it. The last time he did, within 45 seconds, I was publicly throwing up in a Starbucks parking lot. You're welcome, downtown yuppies.
Level of symptom: anorexic ballerina, who will still eat Cheerios.
3. Sensitivity to pain. Related to #1, sure, but now we're talking about pain throughout the body. I got a tangle in my hair. It was just one of those little tiny knots that the brush catches a few times. My eyes watered. After a few passes, I tried to pick at it. The pain was intense. I just left it. I'm not proud, but I left it. Look for dreds in the delivery room.
I walked into the corner of the bed. At an angle. Not even a direct hit, mind you. I was forced to try to breathe even though my body only wanted to inhale from that moment forward. Watering eyes, tears, even. I had to sit and rest and try to let the pain pass. The result? A bruise the size of a rotten banana, with the same coloration, now living on my thigh. Cute, no?
And let me just say this: if labor is as intense as they say it is, I'm not going to be a happy camper now that my pain dial goes all the way to 11 FOR A TANGLE IN MY HAIR.
Level of symptom: emotionally sensitive three year old.
4. Prenatal-vitamin induced nausea. Oh, now that's a catch-22, isn't it? The ONE THING I have to do every day makes me throw up about 15 minutes later. I hope the baby is getting some of those nutrients. I take them in the evening, after dinner. It's two pills: the multi and a fish oil. I take them 15 minutes apart. After another 15, they're both exiting the body. With my dinner, mind you, that I could barely choke down. Not that I had very much for lunch, either.
Level of symptom: bulimic ballerina.
5. Sleeplessness. Why wait until the baby comes to get used to 1-2 hours of sleep at a time? I can start now! Why, I can wake with a start at 11:30, then 1:30, then 3:30, then oh yes, 5:30! A good portion of the time I'm dreaming about food that I can actually eat. Oh, the fantasy!
Level of symptom: insomniac ballerina.

That's just my top five, of course. More to come, I'm sure.