Every week, the nausea reaches a new level. Now I have passed the hacking and spitting phase and moved straight on to true upchuckage, once or twice a day for the last three days. It’s really awesome.
I finally accepted the nurse practitioner’s offer for an anti-nausea prescription, though I haven’t noticed it making much difference yet.
And remember all that yammering I was doing a few weeks ago about my healthy pregnancy diet? Ha! Between working at the costume warehouse 6 days a week, 10 hours a day and trying to eat to make the nausea go away, it hasn’t exactly been a my-body-is-a-temple situation around here lately. It’s been more of a fast-food-and-even-occasional-evil-soda situation. With a lot of crackers.
Also, I’ve had a desperate desire for caramel cake for the past two weeks, and D (my hero!) finally found me one last night at the Piggly Wiggly. I assure you, it tasted way better on the way in than coming back up. Yes, I’m cured of my craving – why do you ask?
On the tiredness front, it’s about the same, though it’s hard to tell because I’m working so much. One day last week, I got so worn out from standing on my feet packing boxes that I had to go in the bathroom and sit on the toilet and cry. After that, my mom moved me to label-printing, a sit-down job. Though I feel guilty for taking this job because it means the other women have to be on their feet more, I finally just gave in and admitted I can’t physically handle being on my feet so much right now.
Mom has also insisted that no one let me lift anything, though I keep cheating and – when she gasps in horror – reminding her that the baby is not located in my arm muscles but significantly lower.
Other than the nausea and tiredness (or maybe because of them), I have become very bitchy. I normally have a low tolerance for annoying things, but lately almost everything makes me want to yell, “SHUT THE HELL UP!!!” D even had the audacity to suggest that having to put up with me is equivalent to all this pregnancy and later giving-birth stuff I have to do. I admit it is a close call. Still, I told him to shut it.
In better news, on Friday, we went to the doc again for another ultrasound. We were shocked immediately by how much bigger the blob on the screen was. It’s 1.14 cm now, the size of D’s pinkie nail, and on track for 7 weeks 2 days, and almost three times the size it was last week! It’s amazing how much changes in just 7 days. There are even limb buds visible now! And the heartbeat looks like finger cymbals crashing together. While the heartbeat is on the screen, I just lie there with a goofy smile on my face because it never stops being wonderful.
Here’s the newest pic:
Once again, the halo-shaped thing is the yolk sac, and the baby is that blob to the right of it, with the head pointing downward.
After studying what a 7-week-old embryo is supposed to look like, this is my interpretation of our other ultrasound pic. But it’s kinda like one of those optical illusion things. It could be upside down or backward or who knows.
The NP says next week we will probably get to see limb movement, which is super cool. We will also have a video conference with our doctor, to discuss when we will be sent back to my regular OB/GYN. Ugh, I dread that day. But at the same time, the fact that they’re even already talking about it makes me feel good about our odds. My progesterone level was good again, too.
Things feel really okay right now. Each week, appropriate progress is made. I am beginning to feel pretty confident this baby is going to make it. All the signs point to yes.
But then today I found out my mom miscarried at 10 weeks, which is supposed to be the safe point! I knew she had a miscarriage a few years before having me and my sister, but she has never talked about it much. I was planning to breathe easier at 10 weeks (only 2.5 weeks from now), but now I guess I’ll have to wait another two weeks to be sure.
D still thinks I am crazy for worrying. And yet, he is suddenly worried about saving money, which he has never cared about overly much before. When I suggest we go to Spain or buy a Halloween baby onesie on clearance, he gets all shrill and says, “We have to save money! We’re going to have a child!” and I say, “Duh. We were always going to have a child.”
I don’t know what brought this on, unless it’s some caveman provider thing kicking in. Me? I don’t have that urge. I wanna go on vacation! Really, I want to go to New Orleans, but there’s probably not much point if I can’t drink. Any suggestions for pregnant-lady-friendly (and cheap, for D) vacation destinations?
