After an eventful morning of being locked out of work and wandering the streets looking for a coffee shop that was open (‘Oh my god! You’re like Mary in Bethlehem,’ TMD says.) I’m safely tucked in at work. I’m a little disappointed the doors weren’t still locked when I returned for the second time, because I was feeling all pregnant and tearful and sorry for myself. I wanted to go home.
Now semi still feeling that way, but gulping down orange jello seems to be helping.
So…..six weeks pregnant today. And while having a baby with its own heartbeat inside me is pretty miraculous, so is the Bella Band. Seriously. Go buy one. I don’t know why they are only marketed to pregnant ladies when they are so clearly the answer to every woman’s prayer. Well, every woman with trousers that don’t fit correctly, anyway.
It’s this stretchy cotton band that allows you to wear your pants partially or totally unzipped, and it holds them up. Holy comfort, Batman. So if you’ve gained some weight this holiday season and want a cheap fix (as opposed to a new wardrobe), get to googling. I went on and on about how miraculous this thing was to Joy yesterday, and then finally stopped myself as I realised I was bordering on fanaticism. And that’s never good.
I also pointed out to Joy that I was now convinced that should I turn into an evangelical Christian, I’d be really fucking good at it.
Six weeks pregnant. My first doctor’s appointment is Friday. I imagine there will be some sort of tussle over how pregnant I actually am, as they base these things on your last period and IVF stretched my cycle out – making everything about five days later than a doctor would calculate.
Not quite sure how the whole pregnant lady thing works here (or anywhere, to be honest), but hope I’ll be referred to a midwife soonish. The scan is still feeling really far away.
Looking forward to asking a perfect stranger (albeit one with a medical degree) if orgasms are a-okay or not. I’ve been having some pretty hot dreams involving myself and the lovely TMD, but not sure if real life incarnations of them are good or not. I have had at least one sleep-gasm, though, and things still seem to be ticking along. So that’s good.
Other symptoms, for posterity’s sake: my nipples are very, very dark. Except when they become so hard I could cry, and at that point the tips become albino white. A little scary. They are hard most of the time, bigger than normal, and hyper-sensitive – not in a good way, either!
My boobs are still veiny as can be. The deep breathing I was having earlier on seems to have abated a bit, which is a relief as I always sounded like a pervy phone call man.
Headaches have ramped up – if I don’t eat in the middle of the night, I’ve had two days of 24 hour headaches. Pretty awesome. Dizziness also seems to be a new pal in my life. This is not too bad and only seems to happen in the mornings when I first get out of bed. Or in the middle of the night when I’m peeing, which is happening a lot.
Except that my pee is slowly darkening again and also looks a bit…fuzzy? Unclear? I don’t know. Going to ramp up my water intake.
Toothbrushing is still a major feat of will. I’m more likely to be acting out scenes from the Exorcism if I brush in the evening, and last night’s regurgitated pizza sure was fine. Also vomited up the prenatal vitamins, I’m sure. I can only safely brush in this crazy routine I have which requires an entry of its own. I can also only use this disgusting strawberry flavoured toothpaste if I want any hope of managing to contain myself at deep gagging rather than actual upchuck.
Let’s see, what else. Lower backache. Needing to eat every 3 hours to not be sick. My body changing shape. Oh – a good one – I’m pooping better than I have in my entire adult life. Sweet jesus. I love it.
While none of this sounds too fab, every day feels absolutely blessed because I do not feel like I did a couple of weeks ago. That was, quite literally, hell on earth. I’m almost glad I experienced that because it makes all the other minor dizzies and vomits seem like a giant piece of tasty cake. I hope hope hope I don’t get sick like that again. Boy howdy.
Anything else? Have I missed anything? Other burning questions you may want answered?
I HAVE A BABY IN MY BELLY. Or, more specifically, somewhere behind the line where pubic hair meets belly.