I mean, I guess I wasn't expecting them to magically make my overwhelming nausea and cramping go away, and I knew they wouldn't provide me with anything earth-shattering, like a picture of my baby's face or some info on the gender (Come on, science! Shouldn't we be able to tell before 20 weeks? Get on that!), but for some reason I always get all excited about the first appointment and then come away all deflated.
I'm pretty sure it's because I'm still at that point where I keep wondering if I'm REALLY pregnant. I mean, I'm as sick as sick can be, so that is rather telling, but it's not like later in your pregnancy when you can feel the baby move and there's no denying it. It still could all be a big mistake at this point, you know? Okay, you probably don't because that makes no sense, but I felt like this for a long time last time, too.
In other news, I ate a bowl of cereal AND a bowl of soup today. Then I had a piece of string cheese and a pickle when I got home from work at 10:30, so GO ME. I increased my food consumption by about 80% there, so I would call that a major success. This means, of course, that I am still sick as all get-out, and the mere thought of food is torture.
Jeremy keeps saying, "But you NEED to eat," and I get that. I do. But it's like this: imagine there was something incredibly horrible and painful and downright torturous -- say, poking yourself in the eye with an ice pick -- and then let's say you had to do this to yourself many times a day. Do you want to? NO. Of course not! Why would you torture yourself? Now say someone reminds you that you have to do it. Doesn't make it any easier. Eating is really like that (I mean, I guess NOT, but it's pretty damn bad). Drinking a sip of water makes me feel a hundred times worse than I already do.
So yeah, things are great *crazy laughter*. Just kidding. I didn't dive off the deep end yet. In fact, Jeremy had the last three days off in a row (!) and he told me to REST and RELAX and I DID and it was AMAZING. But now I have to go back to that sassy child of mine. All the time. Every day. (Who knew ya had to rear 'em after ya birthed 'em?) Then teaching night classes. Then staying up all night, because, oh yeah, did I mention that insomnia flared up REAL BAD? It did.
Okay, this is turning into one bummer of a complain-y post, and I apologize for that. I had all these other things in my head that I was going to add to this, and the complain-y part was only going to be like one paragraph. Huh. So, since I never write anymore and this counts as writing, I'm going to go ahead and slap a title on it and call it a day. How about this, though? I will leave you with a picture and a promise that the next post will be an update on all the funny and darling things Josephine has been doing lately. DEAL.
Here's me with my 8 week bump ... pretty much the same size as two women I know who are 13 and 17 weeks along. Precious, right?
What can I say? I should have sucked it in more. Life lessons, people. And you get 'em here for free. Tell you friends. ALSO, you can hold up a picture of yourself next to this one and feel REALLY good about yourself. Geez, who am I these days, the G-D Dalai Lama? Must be the hormones.