The first trimester

The first trimester sucks. Of all 3 trimesters, it is by far the worst (for me at least). First of all, I always feel like crap. Nauseous, tired, cranky. During my first pregnancy, I would come from work, crash on the couch, and binge on Scandal until I passed out at 9pm. Now I have two kids under 4, so I can’t just lay on the couch watching TV.

Second of all, it is fraught with worry. Once a positive pregnancy test erases the worry of “will I ever get pregnant?”, I start worrying about whether this pregnancy will stick. So there’s the worry up until the first ob appointment (will there be a heartbeat?), the worry at every subsequent appointment (is there still a heartbeat?), the first trimester screen, and on and on and on.

To top it all off, you can’t even explain to your family, friends, colleagues, etc., why you have a short fuse. They just assume you’ve turned into a bitch. And then there’s the awkward turning-down-drinks component, when everyone is dying to ask you whether you’re pregnant but of course they don’t want to because you don’t quite look pregnant, do you?

My husband took the boys out for a bit so I could finally sit down and rest today (kids woke up at 5:30a this morning and it’s 4:00p). We are both wiped, but he’s taking one for the team, and that’s why I love him.

So I’ll go back to reclining horizontally on the couch, reading my book, and trying not to worry about this trimester.

The worst date I ever had

The worst date I ever had was in my early 20s. It was even worse than that one first date where, within 10 minutes, this particular gem told me that he didn’t drink alcohol because he was a recovered alcoholic and, by the way, he was married.

I had been dating someone for approximately one year. It was essentially a long-distance relationship since he ended school one year earlier than I did. Perhaps this is why it lasted a year – we had a brief honeymoon period in college and the following summer, then spent most of the year shuttling back and forth, but not necessarily doing the day to day drudgery of dating life. So it never got old…until it did.

I was finally moving to the same city – hurrah! I was so excited, and assumed he must be as well. I distinctly recall making a reservation at a well-known steakhouse recommended to me by one of my best friends, who’s father was in the meat industry. This is probably a good place to mention that I am a vegetarian. So, in essence, I was setting up a date at a place I would never step into by my own volition, because I knew how much this guy liked meat, and I wanted one of our first dates in the city – our city – to be special.

The dinner was very awkward. He was more reticent than usual, and I had a feeling something was going on, but wasn’t quite sure what. At the end of the dinner, he managed to spit it out: this wasn’t working, he didn’t feel the same way he had, I deserved better, blah blah blah.

I was shocked. Time felt like it had stopped. I couldn’t believe my ears.

In retrospect, our relationship had very little substance and mostly involved drinking and hanging out with his friends, but I was in my early 20s which resulted in my being completely shocked that two completely incompatible people weren’t going to result in forever. After the shock, came sadness and anger. I remember standing outside of the restaurant trying to fight back tears – I couldn’t believe what was happening. I recall him stumbling over his words, not really sure what to say and I’m sure just dying to escape from this awkward situation.

It’s funny, the details are so fuzzy now, but at the time it felt like the world was ending.

I remember crying all of the way to the subway. Fortunately, one of my best friends was hanging out in the city and I called her to meet me at the train so that we could ride home together. She later told me that I was crying so hard she could barely hear a word I said, but knew it had to be bad.

And that was our breakup. I never quite had the closure I wanted but time slowly erased the need for closure. His best friend told me that was just the way he was, she was sorry. His sister told me she liked me better without him. And one day, many months later, we met for a drink. I don’t recall the details of that meeting so well, but we had a nice conversation and it overall ended on a good note, although I never received any straightforward answer as to why he had broken up with me.

Years later, I found out that he was an alcoholic. In reality, he was an alcoholic when we dated but we were in college and drinking irresponsibly didn’t exactly raise any red flags during that time. He faced some significant medical problems as a result of his alcoholism and years later died quite young. I still don’t know the exact cause of death (I never felt like it was my place to pry) but I do hope that his family and friends have the closure they deserve, as they are all wonderful people, as was he. He did me a favor when he broke up with me, by ending a relationship between two utterly incompatible people before I felt ready to do so. At the time, I didn’t see this, but now it is clear as day.

The point of this story is this: hindsight is 20/20. The worst date, the worst day, the worst event of your life may, in certain cases, be blurred into just another story on a page by the slow passage of time.


I have always loved reflecting, writing, and making resolutions. I remember New Year’s Eves in my childhood, curled up on a couch, writing furiously in my journal. I still love new beginnings, blank slates, a clean notebook.

My only problem now is time. How can I work on resolutions if I never sit to reflect and collect my thoughts? Most days now are split between racing around like a madwoman trying to get the most salient items on my to-do list completed and slowing down to enjoy time with my husband and little ones. But there is no in-between. There is no journaling while the kids play, reading the newspaper while they play with Legos, checking things off of my to-do list as my little cherubs entertain themselves. Because most tasks can’t be completed at work (unless it is a day when I am not scheduled to see patients) I spend my nights doing these things, go to sleep late, and am constantly on the verge of sleep deprivation.

Gosh, I realize this sounds pretty pessimistic, but it’s actually not. I enjoy being busy, and I’m very happy. But overall I’d like to be more intentional, despite the many directions I am pulled in.

I don’t put too much pressure on myself when it comes to resolutions, but here are a few things I’d like to focus on this year:

  1. Getting our house ready for a third. We have a few home improvement projects (some quite large) on the agenda and we now somehow need for these to be completed by August.
  2. More date nights with my husband. Since we don’t live close to family, this is always a challenge. Fortunately, we have great friends who have volunteered to mom-sit, and we need to take advantage of this a bit more.
  3. Launch a side biz. My husband and I have a specific idea in mind, in the works now for a few weeks, and we will hopefully bring this to fruition in the new year.
  4. Work out. We have struggled to fit this into our schedules since our first was born. And I have always been worried about the return of hypothalamic amenorrhea. But now, especially for purposes of a healthy pregnancy, I’m going to start working out 2-3 nights per week. We’ll probably start off taking advantage of our home exercise equipment before considering another splurge.
  5. Blog more intentionally. This has been a very sporadic endeavor in the past year, but I’ve quite enjoyed it, and need to focus my efforts a bit more.
  6. Move into more leadership roles at work.

Hoping for a healthy and happy New Year to you all!