Pregnancy is weird.

So I have decided that I need to become a more active participant in my life. One of the things I have decided to do is start a mommy blog. Well, at this point it's a pregnancy blog. But soon (thank God) it will be a mommy blog.
So to get started, I just want to share a little information with you about pregnancy that I wish someone had told me. You know all those people who say that pregnancy is a beautiful, wonderful thing and that it's so perfect and they loved being pregnant? Those people are on drugs. Good drugs, apparently. Drugs that make you see the whole world like it's all sunshine and rainbows and butterflies. Pregnancy is disgusting. You WILL, at some point, be completely miserable and just want this thing to grow up and vacate your body. I was always the little girl who wanted nothing more out of life than to be a mother. I thought it was going to be wonderful. My mother was one of those people who was on drugs and said her pregnancy was perfect. I figured, yeah, I'll have morning sickness and heartburn and all that crap, but I'll be happy through it because I'll be growing the most perfect little baby ever. I was wrong. So very wrong. I had that mentality for MAYBE two days, and then the morning sickness started. Have you ever thrown up every single day for 12 weeks straight? That's just an estimate, but that's what I was going through. I didn't stop vomiting on a regular basis until I already knew that I'm having a boy. The nausea didn't subside until after I started having contractions. Those suck. Especially at 21 1/2 weeks when the doctor you see is a fucking idiot and tells you that he wouldn't stop your labor and would just let your baby die if you did go into labor. So that sucked. Thankfully the contractions stopped, because as miserable as this kid makes me, I don't want anything to happen to him. But contractions suck ass. If you think you're going to have a natural birth... don't kid yourself. These drugs were invented for a reason. You're going to feel those contractions and want to hit or bite someone until they make it stop. Mine weren't even bad contractions but they solidified my decision that the second I walk into the hospital someone is giving me some drugs.
Also I found my first stretch mark yesterday. I almost cried. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I thought I wasn't going to get any. There is no way to truly prevent stretch marks. Plus it's on my boob, so it'll just blend with the ones that I've had since I hit puberty. One thing that DID make me cry, however, was stepping on the scale two weeks ago. My mom and I were playing with my nephew and we wanted to see how much he weighed, so we decided to do the same thing that we used to do with Marcy. I would step on the scale by myself, then with her and calculate the difference. Except that when I got on the scale, it decided to be an asshole. The only time the scale has ever shown my weight being that high was when I stood on it with Marcy in my arms. Okay, awesome, I'd gained 18 pounds. I dropped to the floor and cried. When they weighed me at the doctor the next day, I'd gained another 2. Totaling 20. I'm pretty sure these bastards are lying to me. When I went in on November 8th and found out I was having a boy, I had gained two pounds. When I went in on December 2nd and looked at all his bones (and yep, the penis was still there. He made sure to show us, he's really proud of it) I had gained 5 pounds. Then on January 6th, I had gained 20 pounds. What the Hell? Did I swallow an entire baby in that period of time?
So I'm convinced that my scale is broken and these nurses don't know how to weigh people.