Just a week ago I complained on a message board that I wished I had actually “felt pregnant”, because just going off of a pee-stick made it feel unreal.
I ate my words, and then my stomach contemplated throwing them back up.
Actually, I don’t feel quite that bad. I haven’t actually thrown up (although I was threatening to while in the shower this morning, and I realized that the shower is a great place to blow chunks, provided it’s not very chunky), and I am still able to take care of Munchkin without too much trouble. Housework, however, has been demoted to the lowest position on the priority list, and now Husband has started to pitch in more than usual to pick up the slack.
Mostly I’m feeling a little queasy off-and-on (as opposed to last time, when it was very constant, but hey, I’m not even six weeks along yet), tired, unable to regulate my body temperature, and burpy. Oh, and completely airheaded. I had to run from the checkout counter to my van at the grocery store today because I forgot my wallet in the dash. D’oh.
And my relationship with food has taken a dramatic turn. Sometimes the thought of food or eating turns my stomach, and other times I feel like a ravenous wolf. My normal, healthy, simple-ingredient based diet is not whetting my appetite. On the contrary, it makes me gag a little. What did I get at the store today? El-cheapo frozen burritos, ramen, Lipton dry soup packets, Veggie Booty (okay, that’s semi-healthy), macaroni and cheese in a box, and canned chili. It’s probably a good thing my oven is broken, because otherwise my kitchen would also be filled with baked things filled with chocolate and butter and chocolate and white sugar and chocolate. With chocolate frosting.
I have my first appointment with my midwife tomorrow, the same woman who was my midwife with Munchkin. I’m sure it’ll just be a time to reconnect with her and go over the basic pregnancy protocol (like, um, diet). I’m looking forward to seeing her again, although I’m not looking forward to driving, literally, all the way across the Portland Metro Area. (Remember my rant about driving to the airport?) I’m just going to try to avoid assaulting innocent motorists on the interstate with my van. QUEASY, FREAKISHLY-SHORT PREGNANT LADY WITH A MINIVAN COMING THROUGH!