Pregnancy sucks. I feel like I have a tapeworm sapping every ounce of energy I have. All I’ve done for the past two weeks is sleep. I go to work, I come home, I sleep, I wake up to barely eat something, and then I sleep some more. The fatigue is slowly wearing off, but my inability to eat is getting progressively worse. Everything smells awful and tastes worse. It’s horrible. I’ve had two giant ‘breakdowns’ of crying and self-pity because I’m so frustrated that I can’t just eat. I’ve only thrown up once and that was because I accidentally caught a grape stem (which smells hideous and tastes worse to me right now.)
When I went to the doctor a week ago, I was put at 8 weeks. I’m 9 weeks now and I’ve got my 10 week appointment on Thursday after work. I was completely gobsmacked. The nurse kept telling me all of this information and I’m just sitting there, staring at her, five shades whiter than I already am (which is a fucking feat, let me tell you.) I felt so completely overwhelmed and unprepared. I’m feeling a little better now, but it doesn’t seem any more real. I think the heartbeat will be the moment the shit truly hits the fan. I’m hoping it’ll be this Thursday.
Everyone knows now. The husband was telling everyone he could. I understand his excitement, but all I can think of is that we’re not yet out of the clear and anything could happen. I don’t really want to explain a miscarriage to everyone who works in the building with us. Of course, as a man, he has this completely hopeful outlook that “everything will work out and be fine.” Tell that to the alien in my gut trying to kill me from the inside.
My cousin is a week ahead of me and even though she’s experiencing some sickness with this pregnancy (her third), she’s still able to eat all of the things. I am ridiculously jealous. There are no words for just how jealous I am. I’ve lost weight instead of gained it, which is fine… but I can’t work out because I’m too damned tired and I’m always hungry because I can hardly eat anything at all. I’ve got constant nausea and I can’t eat any of the things that assuage it because crackers, pretzels, and all things associated taste like an ashtray. I’m so ready for this part to be over.
My father-in-law has gone full ‘Tim the Tool-man Taylor’ mode. He is intent to fix ALL OF THE THINGS immediately. He was out in the rain working on our deck the weekend before last. I couldn’t get him to come inside for anything. Next project is staining the deck (they replaced ALL of the rotted railing) and then stripping the painted over wallpaper in the room that will be the baby’s.
Husband has been pulling all the slack. He’s done everything but laundry. He cooks, he cleans, and he takes care of my cranky ass. He deserves a medal. I’d probably just choke him with it. Better not give him a medal just yet.
We’re going to see my family in May and then it’s off to Arizona at the end of May. We rescheduled Key West for July (tentatively) because the baby is due November 6th and we don’t want any traveling at the end of the pregnancy. Sigh.
We’re still having the random realizations that come with this life-changing event. Yesterday, I nearly sobbed because I realized these were our last few months to go to a restaurant baby-free and I can’t even go in restaurants right now because of the smells!
Ugh. This hormone roller coaster sucks, I want off.