Written October 16. 8 weeks.
Officially 8 weeks today, and getting really excited about 2 things: 13 days until my first doctor appointment (!!!!!!!!!!!!) and only FOUR MORE WEEKS until I can share our news with the world. Can.not.wait.
I spend about 75% of my day feeling nauseous. So that stinks. My days have typically been looking like this:
6:00 am – Alarm goes off. Feel ill. Hit the snooze.
6:09 am – Alarm goes off again. Still feel ill. Hit the snooze.
6:18 am – Alarm goes off again. Still feel ill. Decide to shower.
6:35 am – Get out of the shower. Go to the kitchen and get a Sprite. Get back in bed and sip my Sprite hoping to settle my stomach.
6:55 am – Stomach is not settled, but realize that if I don’t get up and moving, I will be very late for work.
7:25 am – Put 3 granola bars in my purse, take my vitamin, and grab a brown sugar Pop Tart to eat on my way to work.
Around 9:30 am – Suddenly I’m STARVING. Eat a granola bar.
Around noon – Am I hungry? Maybe? Go to Subway and get a chicken sandwich.
Around 12:30 – Realize that I wasn’t hungry, now feel really sick.
Around 1:30 – Feel pretty alright. I’ll make it through this day! Afternoons are generally pretty good.
Around 4:45 – On my drive home, realize that I actually kind of feel like shit.
5:00 pm – Get home. Look around the house and see that laundry needs to be done, the kitchen needs to be cleaned, and that Peter has been eating frozen pizza for dinner every night. I WILL cook something tonight! Eat a granola bar.
6:00 pm – I feel like shit. Put on my pajamas. Watch tv. Cry a little because I’m feeling really guilty about being a horrible wife.
6:30 pm – Pete gets home. Asks how I’m feeling. Tell him I’m feeling shitty. He hugs me and says that I should lay down. I cry because he’s being so nice.
9:00 pm – Go to bed.
The other night, Peter was being SO NICE to me, and watching tv with me as I laid on the couch wondering if I was going to throw up, or if I was just going to continue being uncomfortable. Then, I started to cry.
S: I’m so sorry, Peter.
P: Why?? What’s the matter???
S: Because I haven’t cooked or cleaned and I feel like shit, and you are the one that has to deal with me because I can’t just start to cry at work.
P: Sara! Oh my gosh, don’t worry!
S: *crying harder* YOU’RE JUST BEING SO NICE TO ME AND I’M NOT BEING THAT NICE TO YOU.
The good news is that Peter has actually really been enjoying eating frozen pizza for the last two weeks. He feels like a bachelor again.
The bad news is last night when I got home from a Pampered Chef party, he had made a frozen pizza, and the smell just about put me over the edge.
So, needless to say, he’s slightly concerned about his love affair with frozen pizza.