I’ve been wondering where to go next with this whole having a baby gig. What to write about how to capture my excitement, disbelief, fear, feral illness. And I don’t know, really. The truth is, I’m sick. Like, all the time sick, like NO I am not better “now” please stop asking.
I HATE to complain when I am pregnant. Being pregnant is a gift, it’s a miracle and I don’t take this blessing lightly (ha! fat joke) so I suck it up and do what I can to go on about life. Which is what I’ve been doing since about 4. 5 weeks when this bs 24/7 crap reared its ugly head. It was like this with Nate, too, and you know what I did? I kept my head down, went to work, got through the day and waited for it to pass. I’m really trying to do the same thing now. It sucks, for sure. I mean, I’m not getting much done around the house, I’ve not purchased one single gift for Mike and there are a thousand things I’d love to do but my body just isn’t on the same page right now. I’m trying to respect that. I’m napping several times a week and eating as healthy as I can. I get the laundry done, take the dog out, change a few diapers and that’s it. It’s boring and a tad depressing but it is what it is.
I just wish Mike would let me be. I sigh and groan and moan and burp all the time, each time a tiny mummer leaves my lips he asks me if I’m okay. I say I’m fine because how many times per day can you listen to “No!” “BARF GOAWAY!” “YOUDIDTHISTOME!” “go ahead, drink that coffee in front of me” “DONOTCOOKTUNAHELPER!” So, yeah. It’s hard but it’s not supposed to be easy and I can accept that. I’m 9 weeks 4 days and with Nate it let up significantly around week 10 and was gone by 12. If it’s gone by 12 I can deal with that. 3 more weeks will not kill me, but your tuna helper will.
In happier news, I had my first ultrasound today both Mike and Nate were with me. When the baby came on the screen Nate smiled and pointed, “bubbles” it was amazing. You go to your first ultrasound feeling like death warmed over, you KNOW you’re pregnant but there is a part of your brain that wont allow you to accept the pregnancy for all of the “what ifs” in the early weeks.
And then, then, the little olive pops up on the screen and its heart is beating and it has arms and legs and it’s little head is cocked ever so slightly as if it’s seeing you for the first time too. And then you admit it, accept it, love it. A baby. Oh, wow, a baby!
The only time I have recurring dreams is when I’m pregnant and this time around Joel McHale is in almost everyone but also, twin girls, my twin girls. My first due date was my Grandpa’s birthday of July 18th. Grandpa died when Nate was about 8 weeks old, before he got to meet him. Grandpa was a twin. My due date is now officially July 15th and there is just one little olive, and oh, my word, not only is it so cute, I think it’s a she.