Week 6

The last few days have been anything but exciting. Poor Joe's come down with pneumonia, and that makes things around here quite lonely. So while he confines himself to the couch, I fussbudget around and try not to "catch" anything. If it weren't for Hunter and the Birds, I don't know what I'd do!

In other news, last week we had our Confirmation Visit with the doctor. How exciting. And pretty much, that's all it was. Yep, you're pregnant! Now what?

In another week we go back to see the first 8 week ultra sound. I'm guessing it's to give the doctor a better idea of age.

I've also had my first full-fledged bout of real live morning sickness! Up till now I was beginning to wonder if I would get it at all. But after the initial 48 hours of constant nausea (and I'm not exaggerating), I found myself with my head in the kitchen sink this morning thinking to myself, "I haven't thrown up in two years!" Literally, two years! So much for records.

But, being optimistic, despite how miserable I feel (although admittedly, I felt like a million bucks immediately after the five-minute episode, thinking, "oh,that hurts... Hey! What do you know? That's, like, a killer ab workout!"), I suppose it does mean that the hormones are doing their thing, right?

The Bunn

This is the waiting period. The time between the positive at-home pregnancy tests and the official First Doctors Visit. This first week of mine has been full of what-ifs and a lot of being told how horrible this is going to be, financially, physically, emotionally, and apparently by the end of the whole ordeal, I will find myself in Labor and Delivery screaming to my husband, "If you EVER touch me again, so help me...!!"

I'm inclined to remain optimistic. In fact, despite the reinforcement of the possibility that this could be the worst nine months of my life, I find myself wondering about things like: What will I look like? Will I be the little Basketball-Belly Mom? Will I be the All-Out-Front Mom? Or will I be Penguin Mom?

I'm definitely hoping for the former, not the latter. But I guess time will tell there. Right now, I just feel and look like I've had a little too much to eat. (Mom, I'll spare the naked belly pictures for now.)

In the meantime, I'll continue to "eat for two," even though it feels like I have to force myself most of the time. I'm telling myself that it's not attached yet, so I'm not technically eating for two. Yet. As far as I know...

First Timer

There's a first time for everything, right? That's blogging for me. I finally caved (I'm quite sure to my little sister's greatest delight) to familial pressure and got out of my tech-unsaavy box, in which I've been happily living for the past 8-or-so years.

But, seeing as I'm not allowed to continue living under my delusion that the internet is a corruption of the space-time continuum (thanks, Karin), I'll keep a blog.

It isn't like I don't have anything to talk about, afterall. I'm bubbling over! But phones, email, texting and all those other technological advances are beyond me. So forgive me.

And here I start.

Except I don't know exactly where "here" is, to tell the truth... So accept it as :

Week 4 (or thereabouts)

As I'm sure everyone knows, this is all totally new to me. I feel like I'm grappling along in the dark for something that I can comprehend. As of right now, I really feel no different, with the exception of being a little tender and crampy, and maybe a little overly-emotional, but I hardly notice. I keep waiting for the puking episodes and the faintness and the dizziness and the torrents of bitter, hormonal fury that come pouring out onto any unsuspecting person, all of which I keep hearing about from others who have been there, or know someone who has.

On the flip-side, I've had ample amounts of overjoyed people running up to me to spill thier gooey "I'm so HAPPY!" all over me. At work, there's approximately 1.2 billion people who have all heard through the grapevine, and I think I have personally told about 7 of them. That's 7 people.

It seems strange that such a little thing (literally! Through my reading, I've learned that it's now about 1/16 to 1/8 of an inch long!) can cause such a huge rucous. After watching a friend of mine last year, I keep telling myself as soon as I start showing and the "belly-grabbers" come out, I'm going to get a shirt that reads, "touch me and die."

But for now, I'm safe. From the belly-grabbers, at least.