Becoming pregnant is one of the happiest moments of women's lives. In the months leading up to delivering, there is the bonding that happens, the enjoyment of feeling the baby kick, and indulging in the pregnancy cravings that pop up from time to time that may not have been done before pregnancy. It truly is a wonderful time to be a woman and a mother-to-be. That is, unless it is not.

I did not grow up wanting kids. I did not enjoy babysitting, did not enjoy being around other people's children, and really thought that the direction of my life would take me anywhere but down the path of motherhood. That, however, changed when I met my future husband, and my views on becoming a mother changed.

When I became pregnant with my first daughter, it was a surreal experience. The signs were all there that I was pregnant for weeks but not being knowledgeable about the symptoms of pregnancy, I just thought that my early mornings and the gym and long hours at work were starting to catch up with me. Instead, it turned out that I was 10 weeks pregnant before realizing a baby had been conceived.

Like many pregnancies, during the first trimester, I was tired. However, it was not until the second trimester that I experienced morning sickness. And I was sick morning, noon, and night. One of the few things that helped keep nausea at bay temporarily, was working out in the morning. Because of this, I would drag my exhausted and foreign feeling body out of bed and get in physical activity before work.

I was really starting to dislike everything about pregnancy.

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In the midst of feeling awful nearly all the time, I was diagnosed with placenta previa. And because I was older than 35 my doctor was concerned about complications as a result of it. Her treatment plan was simple - no more working out and any walking I did had to be no faster than an 18-minute mile.

So, while I was protecting my baby from premature labor, I was miserable. One of my few outlets to relieving my nausea was stripped from me and the effects of that were almost immediate.

I officially hated being pregnant.

As the pregnancy progressed, the morning sickness eased to the point where nausea usually passed by lunchtime. And, as luck would have it, the placenta previa resolved itself as the uterus expanded to accommodate the baby. Things were starting to look up!

However, the promise of a non-eventful third trimester was short-lived. With my healthy daughter growing and decreasing the size of my stomach, acid reflux became my arch-rival. This was especially true with how sick I had been during the last several months.

The reflux got so bad that I eventually had to sleep on the recliner portion of the couch to get any sleep at all. As such, I was now exhausted, nauseous, and done being pregnant.

When my water broke at work, I was ecstatic! I knew this torture called pregnancy was about to be over.

As I breathed through my contractions, I was grateful as they grew stronger because that meant my little one would be born and all of the discomforts I felt over the past seven months would end.

The most amazing thing happened though when my oldest was placed in my arms. All of the ill feelings and resentment that I had about the pregnancy were forgotten in an instant. For the first time, I felt a wave of love wash over me for this baby that I had not experienced through all of the sickness and discomfort that was pregnancy. Staring at the little face looking up at me made all of the horribleness that was pregnancy worth it.

By the time that my husband and I were ready to add a second baby into the mix, my oldest was 14 months old. By that time, she and I were in a groove, were having fantastic adventures together, and had built a bond that was unbreakable. Life was amazing.

I loved motherhood!

Unfortunately, pregnancy number two, with the exception of the placenta previa, was a repeat of the first. Except, where I was able to rest when I needed to, having a toddler to take care of meant that when she was not napping, she needed physical activity and mental stimulation. I no longer had only myself to care for during pregnancy.

The exhaustion of chasing after my daughter, getting her to playdates, and dealing with her sleep regression while nauseous, left me feeling physically and emotionally drained. Being pregnant with my youngest daughter was turning out to be worse than it was with my first because there was no "me" time.

I was reminded of my hate for pregnancy.

I was so exhausted during the second pregnancy that it did not register with me when contractions started. Feeling a bit nauseous after going out to lunch, I decided to go for a walk. However, there was some cramping that was beginning that I had not experienced before, so I thought it best to head home. And on my way there, it hit me. I was in labor! This pregnancy was nearing its end. I was happier than I had been in weeks!

Nearly 45 minutes had passed since the contractions started on the walk and I arrived at the hospital. They were far more intense with my second than I had experienced with my first. But I went with them because that meant all nausea and exhaustion I experienced were coming to an end.

Just 37 minutes after I arrived at the hospital, my second daughter was born.

Like before, as soon as the precious baby was placed on my chest, the love for the little one became overwhelming. And instantly, as much as I hated being pregnant, it paled in comparison to how much I loved being a mother.

My girls are the most amazing things to have happened to me. They inspire me to be better, they make me stop and smell the roses, and help me see the beauty in the small things in life. I truly am the best version of myself because of them and for that, I will forever be grateful.

I love being a mom!