Saturday, April 16, 2011

It's my blog, I can whine if I want to, whine if I want to...

It's my blog, I can whine if I want to, whine if I want to. You would whine too if it happened to you...
(or maybe you're a better person, one can only hope).

My primary role? An incubator. A short, "mildly overweight" (thanks, you make it not seem so bad) incubator. As of today, April 16th, 7 weeks and 5 days pregnastic/pregtastic. And I'm really ready for Ian to take a turn (what, that's not how it works?!?). I try to keep a positive profile for FB and the world, but it's my blog, and I can whine if I want to:
  • Nausea: whenever, however, after whatever; as far as I can tell, I have no way of predicting when or what makes the nausea happen, nor does anything really seem to alleviate it. Just comes and goes in waves, doing it's thang. 
  • A serious case of the bloaties. Gross. I'm surprised my husband still loves me; I'm pretty sure I fart on his legs all night long.
  • What is sleep? I don't know. It takes an extra hour or two to fall asleep and actually stay asleep, and then I wake up 3+ times in the night. So I'm getting less sleep when I need more sleep. 
  • The Ladies: I was on the larger side before but have elevated up an additional cup size or two, and my trusted shelf tanks/ sleep bras = "wake up in pain because you rolled over or coughed in your sleep" bras. Yeah. I'm now sleeping in an high impact sports bra (as advertised, best for running, tennis, and high intensity aerobics. Or sleeping, right?). I know the instant I try to shop for a new bra, I'll explode out of it in a rush of hormones, so as of right now, I'm living in denial of my cup-flowith-over situation.
  • These crazy taste buds! Bitter and sour are amplified to the point where I very nearly sugared my salad tonight post a smattering of Italian dressing. But my cats would've judged me, so I abstained.
  • Sneezing makes my uterus contract, or my ovaries hurt, or something. (So anatomy isn't my thing)
  • I want to eat everything, but never what is put in front of me. So now I'm just picky and rude. Not how my mother raised me. 
  • More caffeine please! Only 1-2 cups of tea to get me through the work day? Really?!? 
  • Tylenol actually doesn't help a headache or migraine. I've had two ridiculous headaches that drove me to tears in the past two weeks.
  • The dreaded RLS. Don't believe Restless Leg Syndrome exists? Fool. I was an antsy bed-companion before the whole baby thing, now it's a whole lot worse.
I think the real problem is that I'm working almost full time, am finishing finals, and am pregnant. It all equals a lot of stress and not a lot of time for relaxation or the kind of sleep I need, plus I get crusty when I'm tired, hungry, or don't feel well... which is kind of all the time.

Ian is wonderful though. My wonderful partner, my heart, my love. He only gets mildly annoyed when I leave cooking or clothing trails. He does most of the cooking, he does most of the cleaning, all of the dishes, and addresses the litter and feeding/quieting of the kitties. He holds me and massages me and lotions my itchy back and tells me how great I'm doing (he's encouraging, that one!).

Okay. Whining done and out of my system. I'll be a beacon of positivity and pregnancy bliss in a week or two.