Remember when I promised to blog my eggo preggo journal? Well I suppose if I'm going to be a mother I had better learn how to keep my promises. So this picks up where the last one left off, pasted from my iPhone notepad...
Cliche: tearing up at a credit card commercial. Dude went to visit his uncle in Italy, you guys. I mean, c'mon.
I just spent 2 minutes looking at tampon prices in the toiletries aisle at the grocery store before I figured it out. [This remains one of the major highlights to this whole thing.]
And the weak stomach has started. Just ever so slightly. And now I'm terrified.
Ugh. Yep nausea is real. I'm definitely nauseous. Or "nauseated" as Sheldon Cooper would say.
I'm also feeling especially whiny. I expect that will remain for the next 20 years or so.
Pretty sure if Hubby's gonna be a father that he should keep up on his laundry and stop "recycling" his dirty underwear. Maybe.
Pregnancy fatigue. Who would have guessed. Beyond exhausted by the end of the day. But it isn't just physical. It's mental too. So much worrying. So much stress. A some damn legitimate resentment too. Ugh. Tired.
November 24 I
wanted Hubby to come home so I considered texting him to say I think I'm in labour. Then I realized that was a terrible idea.
Wow this pregnancy stuff is some really grown up shit. Big decisions. Luckily, I have Hubby to talk to. And we pretty much always see eye to eye on the big stuff. Best. Hubby. Ever.
3am: I WANT TO SLEEP ON MY STOMACH. But I may puke.
Hubby and I can't picture ourselves s parents of real actual children. Babies, yes. Toddlers, sure. But real children? Nope. I mean, children, like, do homework and stuff. That's too hard. Hubby says he'll put our kids up for adoption around age 5. Makes sense.
I find it odd that people had, like, a year and a half's advance notice before our wedding. They could mark their calendars, plan around it, buy us a modest gift... But growing a tiny human? 6 months. That's all they get. And that might be too much. Any way I can keep this a secret any longer?
My boobs are bigger and they're getting in the fucking way. MOVE, boobs.
It's like having the threat of the nausea pills prescription in my purse was all I needed. Nausea gone. I WIN. [In hindsight, this entry grossly under-states the absurdity of constant nausea 24/7 for several weeks on end.]
Holiday lunch at work today. I wanted to cry because everyone was passing around bottles of wine and I couldn't have any. I could even SMELL it. I could have tasted some, I guess, but who wants to torment themselves like that? ! I didn't want a damn sip, I wanted three fucking glasses. I didn't even care red or white. I woulda mixed them together. Pink wine would have been perfect.
December 12 Just when I thought the nausea had passed I nearly died last night. Well, not exactly, but I basically puked in my mouth at least 20 times. So upsetting.
My boss made the mistake of asking me if I wanted anything from the grocery store. Um, sure, how about a block of cheddar cheese. And then he had to watch me eat nearly the whole thing, chunk by chunk, just with my hands and a knife. Classy.
December 20, 7:30 am
Hubby and I driving to the hospital for THE ULTRASOUND and blood testing. Did you remember to bring your cup of pee? Yes? Ok good.
December 20, 8:30 am
Pardon me? What's that? I don't need a pee sample? The whole "full bladder" remark was for the ultrasound? Oh. So what should I do with the cup of pee in my purse then?
December 20, 9:30 am
So that wasn't too bad. The baby viewing was pretty cool. But if it meant I could avoid a hospital, I may never do it again... But how did Hubby do? Oh he was thrilled of course. Nobody was pushing on *his* naked pelvis. Me: "Yeah. There's a baby in there. What else is new?" Hubby: "Whoa! There's a BABY in there?
I used to use my period to tell me when to switch to a new set of contacts. I fear my contacts are 3 months old...