or most of the day it feels more like i'm dying than creating life (totally stole that from a babycenter comment, because it felt like truth).
if i could stop eating, i would gladly do so. i would gladly just drink those disgusting chalky shakes three times a day that are supposed to keep old people from withering away or the kid ones that are supposed to replace the gaps in their nutritional sphere if it meant i never again had to think about what to eat, what might not sound disgusting, what i SHOULD eat versus what sounds remotely palatable, or had to deal with the inevitable consequences.
and i don't even throw up. so i don't even have that to deal with.
i just, with this pregnancy, have the most oppressive, long-lasting nausea i have ever experienced in my entire life. i got pretty sick before i had my gallbladder removed. i think this is worse, though i remember the only thing i ever wanted to eat then was blueberry bagels and apple juice (both of which don't sound terrible now). so maybe it's about the same. but at least then i could still go to school, make cogent and logical arguments, do my work.
right now all i want to do is sit around and moan.
not a viable option when you have a highly active (walking, getting ready to run, perhaps, climbing) 10 month old. and a job. or a series of a jobs. and a house that doesn't clean itself.
when does it end?
like i'm praying for the 2nd trimester. in all earnestness. i don't even know what week i am. i think i'm in week 11 or 12. ISN'T THAT WHEN IT'S SUPPOSED TO END?
i'm sorry to whine. i know that my troubles are nothing in the grand scheme of things. i know that feeling moderately guilty for only wanting to eat corn chips dipped in plain sour cream is a totally first world problem. i get that i am blessed. i totally get it.
but when you feel like you've been run over by the disgusting train for 12 hours a day (okay, maybe 10. but seriously. it starts about noon and doesn't end until 10 or 11 at night), you maybe sort of enter the woe-is-me land.
and then i had a stomach bug on top of it this weekend.
seriously. I'M NOT EVEN JOKING.
sometimes i just think Heavenly Father really has a whacked out idea of what i can handle. but then i realize that, crappily as i might be doing it, i am handling it.
so maybe He knows what's going on after all.
this pregnancy is nothing like the last one. of course, i didn't have the 10 month old last time and i had the luxury of napping through the worst of the nausea (which has always, for me, been the best way to deal). i get two naps a day if i'm lucky with maggie. she doesn't mind sleeping with me, and we at least sleep together for the morning nap. that usually gets me through. sometimes, if i'm entirely thrashed, i crash with her for the second one.
but mainly i spend the afternoon praying that my husband gets home soon so that i don't have to be jumping off the couch baby alert all the time and can lay down. or just moan in peace.
man. i'm a downer.
but this is straight up nausea-induced stream of consciousness stuff here. gold, i tell you. gold. someday i'm going to look back and tell myself to suck it up, you whiny git. that'll be a good day.
or else i'll look back and say "oh yeah. that was RIGHT BEFORE it all got better." (i hope. i hope. i hope forever and ever.)
this pregnancy is nothing like the other one. which means either it's a boy or a girl who hates me.
either way, i'm in for it.
back to grading things i couldn't possibly care less about.
(you all totally want to hang out with me, don't you? i am a LAUGH RIOT.)