On Tuesday (November 16) I’ll be having my first appointment with a gynecologist and I’ll be 8 weeks pregnant.
Eight weeks. It’s really not a very long time at all but the days feel like weeks right now. I feel like I’ve been pregnant for a year already. Not because of the physical symptoms (which abound and I’ll get to in a sec) but because we’ve only told a very very select few people about what’s going on and most likely we’ll be keeping the information to ourselves until the middle of December when I’m 3 months along. It’s the not being able to freely talk about it yet that’s making this first several weeks drag, I think.
I want to dish with my friends back home and compare notes with my friends who’ve had kids already. I want to look like complete crap (which I do) and have people be understanding, rather than keep assuming I’m sick or depressed or that something is wrong.
But yeah, like I was saying, me and the blueberry (cause that’s the size it’s supposed to be right now) are almost 8 weeks along and so far pregnancy is nearly everything it’s promised to be. I’m exhausted and often fall asleep as soon as I’m in a laying position and even when I manage a full night sleep I have huge dark bags under my eyes which accentuate my pale, puffy, pimple infested face quite nicely. The pimples in particular bug me since I’ve always had a clear complexion, even during puberty. I’ve never had more than one or two at a time and never very often, but here I am with a big cluster on my chin and a few rebels sprouting on my cheek and forehead.
The cravings haven’t gotten too weird yet although I suddenly, after a lifetime of disliking raw onions am finding them a lovely addition to my sandwich. Dairy products are hit and miss with cheese and pudding usually being made of win while yogurt, ice cream and plain milk typically bordering on nasty. And don’t even talk to me about the odor of the steamed milk at work. That along with paprika potato chips and lavender are all the devil.
I read not to eat spicy foods as they may cause indigestion, but I’ve had chronic indigestion for several weeks regardless of what I eat and since I’m usually extremely nauseous at least half of the day, when the mood strikes me to eat something, I eat it. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t eat much at all. Which I realize isn’t particularly the best way to approach things, especially cause I’m mainlining ginger-ale to keep my stomach as settled as I can. And since I’ve yet to find a diet ginger-ale here, well, I’ve put on a pant size.
The bra-size went up within a week or two of being pregnant, before I started eating weird and not always balanced amounts of food. And my boobs hurt and they’re in the way a lot. Even more than usual. Meh.
I can’t say that this is a particularly comfortable experience overall so far, and the irony is that all of these things mean that everything is going well and right so far. It’s a strange feeling to be thankful for nausea and acne, but I know this is just the beginning and chances are there will be several things I’ll be surprised to be thankful for somewhere in my immediate future.