Tag Archives: morning sickness
Supposedly that’s what I have growing in my uterus. Having not seen it for a week now, I’m a bit skeptical. I just don’t feel pregnant. I certainly don’t feel NOT pregnant either. I just feel… weird.
With Monkey, I was on a much higher done of progesterone and I was on estrogen. He was a fresh cycle, and I had over 20 eggs retrieved and was fat, bloated and sick pretty much from day one. There was never any doubt that I was pregnant. If I wasn’t actively eating, I was fetal position on the bathroom floor.
There was also fear of miscarriage as it hadn’t yet happened to me.
This time I’m fine. A little too fine for comfort. I really wish I could just start each morning with a good heave and know that things were moving forward. Instead my symptoms are slight and noncommittal.
As long as I got a good night sleep, and have made it past the morning sickness by eating at least twice and napping at least once, like… after 2 pm. Or 3 pm even. And as long as I haven’t had any obligations other then watching tv, napping, eating and PERHAPS, walking the dog, and as long as I haven’t smelled anything too stinky, and as long as I haven’t accidentally read anything about a miscarriage…
And as long as it’s not too late. Like, earlier then 7pm. 6pm even.
And as long as there is no jiggling, shaking, smells or sudden movements.
Then I’m TOTALLY interested in sex!
8 weeks down. 4 weeks till the second trimester and the last taste of normal I will see for the next 18 years.
Not that my life so far has been … “normal.”
Anyway… off to the spanking factory to dress up some stranger in a frilly pink sissy dress, humiliate, degrade and beat them while trying not to barf.
We have a ton of social obligations this weekend and I’m trying to make it through them all, however, at the 3rd of 4th this evening I’m standing in a bar, talking to friends, up past my new progesterone inspired bedtime, when the smell of all the booze, and the food and the people and the crowd and the standing in the heels, suddenly I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Or throw up.
Or perhaps, for the most effect on the friends I’m with who I’ve not seen in ages, both. At the same time.
One friend who knows my situation hunts down the one chair in the place and we park me within dodging distance of the bathroom AND a trash can. That helps as long as there are people there to distract me, but an hour later they’re all heading out to the next party. I spy my drunken, completely charming husband standing, perhaps wobbling even, with his back to me through 15 feet of stinky drunken crowd.