Pregnancy feels like life before thyroid medicine.

Three winters ago, in my second year of graduate school, I was diagnosed as hypothyroid, and starting taking meds to regulate my thyroid levels. I remember the months preceding that diagnosis as some of the worst of my life: I slept for 10 to 12 hours a day, and I couldn't stop crying. I don't mean I got a little weepy. I mean that I cried, uncontrollably, for hours every day. It would start without warning, and it couldn't be contained. Crying in class, crying in front of my advisor, crying with my friends, crying on the phone at night. I broke a cell phone from crying into it too much. Really. And then finally came that glorious day when I began taking the thyroid replacement pill. Within two weeks I felt like a new person. I was happy, energetic, awake. I wanted to play tennis for hours on end. I wanted to do fun things with my friends. I wanted to do my schoolwork again. And most importantly, I stopped crying. Just like that. I woke up one day, and all the tears were gone. It was a powerful experience, and made me aware of how linked my emotions are to what's happening in my body.

Pregnancy, my friends, feels a lot like life before thyroid medicine. Well, maybe I'm not as tired. But man, that crying thing? It is back with a vengeance. Add in a healthy dose of nausea and life starts to seem pretty bleak indeed.

All sources tell me that this is normal. Some offer reassurance that the second trimester will be much, much better. My endocrinologist is closely monitoring my thyroid levels, but so far, they're quite normal, which means that this time, I can't blame my tears on that pesky old thyroid.

I am trying to just get through one day at a time here. Right now, the fact that I'm pregnant makes me cry. But then, so do stories on NPR. I know that what I have to do is trust that I had good reasons for wanting to be a parent right now, trust that soon, I'm not going to be crying. I have to trust that the way I feel right this minute isn't the way I'll feel forever, or indeed, for very much longer.

I know that I also need to keep on reaching out to my friends. (And friends, if you're reading this, this would be a great time to call.) What is really important is that I don't let myself feel isolated in this process. Because the truth is, this pregnancy ISN'T a mistake. I DIDN'T get knocked up by accident. This baby is going to be one of the most intentional, wanted, and welcomed kids in the world. And, I might be a single-parent, but I certainly didn't start this process alone, without an amazing group of friends and family.

And hopefully, soon I'll stop crying...