Feminist Pregnancy

I have never been pregnant before, except for one brief and all-too-quickly terminated opportunity in 1998. And I have to say, I am shocked by the experience.
I am now at the Leslie Nielsen stage (9 and a half weeks.... geddit?) and have spent much of the last three and a half weeks lying on the couch. I am so tired. I feel so sick. I have to keep eating constantly, but not just anything. Oh no. I have to negotiate at length between my body and mind so as to discover what will be acceptable to both. One day hot chips will be the peak of heavenly food consumption, the next hot chips will be an evil I cannot tolerate even thinking about. Our cupboards and fridge are full of things I thought I might like to eat, or even started eating, but which have been cast aside. For the record, today I am keen on passionfruit, strawberries (but I don't have any), lemonade, chocolate, hot chips (it's one of those days). I am not keen on any other fruit, vegetables, eggs, Yogo, leftover curry, or black jellybeans.
Why am I so shocked? I thought that pregnancy was a fairly inocuous thing during the first trimester - no one knows, no one can tell (ha! My waist has, as they say, 'thickened' dramatically) and morning sickness just meant throwing up occasionally if you were lucky, often if you were not. WRONG. Morning sickness is not just about nausea, although that aspect of it can be crippling. It's about motion sickness: moving around anywhere seems very unnatural, and my body pleads with me to lie down if I overdo it. I cannot cook, I cannot do the shopping, I cannot exercise. This is extreme, peeps! Who knew?
Further to that, my digestive system has gone ballistic. This could be down to the odd diet I have been negotiating, plus the lack of exercise. I won't go into detail, but let's just say that knowing when to force down some prune juice is fast becoming an essential skill of this pregnancy.
And then there's the emotional aspect. I am not ready for a baby! I only just got back from London! I only just decided to switch careers! I have no friends in Alice Springs, where I live! Poor Simon has been on the receiving end of this. I lash out at him when I am at my sickest, and I cry on him when I am plumbing depths I thought were some way off (like when the baby was born). True, there have been happy moments too but they are usually brought on by Simon himself, an emotional oasis in the desert that provides encouragement, hope and excitement.
For of course I am excited. I am excited to be doing this and to be doing it with Simon. As he himself says, sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the blessing, but a blessing it undoubtedly is.
My question though, is this: Why are women fooled into thinking that pregnancy is this glowing, wonderful state? No woman I have spoken to has enjoyed their first trimester. Every single one I have confided in has clucked with sympathy when I speak of sickness, nausea, fatigue, uncertainty and boredom. They all know what I am talking about. Some are adamant that the second trimester is fun, but no one has argued yet that the third trimester, when you look like you have swallowed a watermelon, is all that brilliant. That means that for the vast majority of us, at least two trimesters out of three are a physical challenge that we are, arguably, unprepared for. We are led to believe that we will look beautiful, feel great, and enjoy nesting as we prepare for the birth. I feel unlike I ever have before: I have lost control of my body, I can FEEL the hormones washing around, and at the end of the day the sickness actually cannot be predicted or neutralised. My boobs are sore, my belly is growing (and groaning), I nap in the afternoons and I contribute nothing, apart from an invisible embryo, to the household. I have lost my energy, my identity and my strength, and I really feel I had very little warning that this would happen.
When the baby is born and becomes the light of my life, I will of course forget all of this. I will be affected by the amnesia that allows women to go back, time and again, for more pregnancy, more babies. And in the end, I do not wish in any way to suggest that I suspect that this effort is not worth it.
I just wish that women had told me how hard this was going to be. It may be 'natural', but it sure doesn't feel that way.