Okay, so yes I’m with child now. To answer your questions: 12 weeks—due Valentine’s Day; yes, it was planned; no, we’re not trying for a girl; yes, I feel like crap; no, the sea bands and B6 and anti-nausea drugs don’t make a lick of difference; yes, you are the first person I wanted to tell about the pregnancy and we will probably name the child after you.
I know not everyone wants to hear about all the details of my pregnancy all the time, like what a hemorrhoid flare-up feels like or how the nurse practitioner told us our 8-week embryo was cute (I totally called her on it) or how many hours I’ve logged with my head in a toilet this time around.
Not everyone wants to know how everything in the world, from my favorite sweatshirt to boiling water to my darling husband has a smell now and how all of those smells are vile.
Or how I get these giant squawky hiccups throughout the day and hundreds of silent throat convulsions that push stomach acid up into my throat so that I am always looking for a place to spit.
Or how I get depressed when I’m pregnant so that it doesn’t feel like I’m living anymore, but just trying to make time pass, and how things can still make me happy (until about 3PM after which nothing does) but nothing gives me joy anymore.
And how amazing my friends and family have been at helping me through this, especially when I voluntarily signed up for it and it’s not like I’m dying even though I’m acting like I am.
So because not all of you want to hear all about it (and no one wants to hear about it all the time), from now on I’ll limit myself to Maternity Mondays and you can read or skip at your leisure. The rest of my blog posts will probably be about unicorns that poop rainbows all over the sky.
If this pregnancy follows suit, I will be nauseous the entire time but fortunately the depression and throwing up usually subside somewhere between week 16 and 20. I’m hanging on for that.