Thursday, January 3, 2013

30 weeks

Vomiting is slightly traumatic. Some people can do it unceremoniously and others... can't. I chucked my cookies for the first time this pregnancy last night. It came on hard and sudden while I laid down for bed and I barely made it to the bathroom. The Dude rushed in to hold my hair and cleaned up the mess I made. He's good. I mean, the man loves me.

I cried last night before bed. My ribcage was aching. Turns out it's expanded three inches already, which was alarming even if it was expected. My lower back was in pain. My sour heartburn was around as per usual and I had a constant gas bubble sitting inside my chest. I would pound it out and another would reappear. I was just so damn fed up with feeling subpar.

The Dude had a McDonalds craving and so that was what I ate last night and subsequently lost to the porcelain express. The only good thing that happened after the tears and the upchucking was that the McD's seemed to absorb all the acid and take it along for the mass stomach eviction. I had the best night's sleep I can remember in a long time. It was six hours of broken sleep, but heartburn-free. Of course it was back in the morning, but I had a reprieve from one of my most trying symptoms.

I have roughy 10 weeks left of this nonsense. I went to the midwives yesterday. Blood pressure? Perfect. Weight? On target. Measurements? Normal. Glucose? Healthy. My healthful, uncomplicated pregnancy still comes with all these quality of life issues. Gotta say, I'm not feeling the glow. I'm told I have the glow, which is great, but I feel old. Like, creaky with bouts of bodily failures.

My cloth diapers arrived in the mail today. They're really cute and high quality. The colours are nifty too. The fact they don't become instant garbage as soon as they're used gives me a sense of satisfaction. I always thought that was gross, the disposable nature of diapers. I'm grateful to live in an era with sensible (and adorable) alternatives.

I wonder if my child will ever want to read my blog. If so, let me tell you, kid, this sucks. If nothing tells you how much I want to be your mother, going through this crappy pregnancy should give you an idea. Also, I reserve the right to throw my suffering in your face if you give me lip. Ha!

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