When I envisioned my pregnant self, I saw a glowing, angelic Allyn with a nice round belly, no cellulite, prancing through the woods. There was no morning sickness, and my body was working exactly as it should (which, of course, meant I felt no discomfort). I loved being pregnant in this vision! Pregnancy would make me a goddess!
Ohohohohoho. Wow. That is funny. Reaaaaaally funny. The thought of it now makes me chuckle. No, it makes me LOL.
Well, first the good news. While ultrasound-time will not happen for two more months, I did get several test results at my appointment last Tuesday (I get the rest this Thursday). So far, everything is just super. Yay.
The bad news: prego sickness has taken over my life. For well over a week now, I have been constantly nauseated. Like, please-god-just-let-me-puke nauseated. I have to eat pretty much constantly to keep the nausea at bay (and that doesn't really work). I have vomited violently a total of two times, once in a Cracker Barrel bathroom (in which a nurse came to my stall door and made sure I was okay...I had to explain that I was just eight weeks pregnant, and thus was not pregnant enough for my BABY TO QUIT HATING ME, so all was well). As for what I'm eating, the thought of vegetables makes me sick. I walked through Kroger (nauseated, of course) and bought EVERY PRODUCT IN THE WHOLE STORE that didn't make me nauseated. My grocery bill was a mere $40, folks. Don't even get me started on the shrimp in the open freezer. I smelled it all over the store. I want to kill all shrimp everywhere...and make sure they don't end up at Kroger.
I have very frequent indigestion, which I didn't know could happen this early in pregnancy. I hiccup (really, just gas, not diaphragmatic contractions) frequently. I have to pee every two hours (at the most! Usually on the hour.). And I don't normally talk about such topics, but since last week, my intestines could supply enough gas to completely end our reliance on foreign reserves. I'm not even going to go into what's coming out of my intestines nowadays. Trust me: it defies logic.
Oh, and I turned twenty-five years old this week. I got to celebrate by napping and not puking. Hooray.
Somebody tell this kid to knock it off with the progesterone fits or I'm going to withhold the prenatal vitamins and smoke a cigarette (okay, okay, I'm kidding, but I AM tired of being sick).
I'm starting to wonder when I'm supposed to enjoy being pregnant. At least my husband's having fun with all the "I get to be a daddy!" stuff and rubbing my fledgling baby bump. The only enjoyment I get from this nowadays? I have an excuse to nap and be bitchy, and all of my flowy hippie clothes will soon serve a purpose. Ah, maternity wear.
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