I’m coming off four days with visitors in my home: My brother-in-law, sister-in-law and their 3 1/2 year old child. It was a lovely, but eye opening visit. They helped keep my mind of my yoyo nausea and gave Merp and I reason to get outside and enjoy the Southern California Sunshine. But they also scared the crap out of us.
You see, I have a confession. I really haven’t spent much time around children. None of my brothers have children. None of my close friends do (one does, but I only see her once a month if that). I don’t work in child care, child development, or education, nor have I ever had any inclination to. I don’t dislike children (obviously, or I wouldn’t want one of my own), I just have very little experience with them. With that said, spending four straight days with an intelligent, but strong willed toddler (that’s still what they are at 3 1/2 right?) and the accompanying tantrums, made me realize just how serious this having a child thing is. And this particular child is healthy and smart without any developmental delays. Gulp. If I wasn’t saying my prayers before, I’m saying them now. If this pregnancy works out, please let it result in a mentally and physically healthy baby that grows into a healthy child that grows into a healthy adult. Please.
I know I sound naive, but WOW. Holy bat cave on fire wow. The last four days were INTENSE. Luckily my nephew’s parents are extremely patient and kind, taking a vested interest in their child’s happiness and growth so that Merp and I weren’t put in any awkward your-turn-to-discipline-auntie type situations, but still. Will I be that patient? Will Merp? This is 24/7 care we’re talking about here. Accommodating toddler eating habits, play whims, random freakouts, bath avoidance, bedtime avoidance etc. It’s all so exhausting and drama filled. And don’t even get me started on a screaming infant! But I DO hope it happens. I DO hope we get there. AND WITH THIS BABY. But I’m terrified. To the bone.
Not that there weren’t cute moments. There were. This kid has an amazing vocabulary and imagination. He’s active and cute. He and his parents and their interactions made me realize I’ve got a lot of books to read on child rearing, development, and parenting styles. IF this pregnancy works out of course.
Speaking of which, I caved and got an ultrasound on Wednesday to calm my nerves about the disappearing nausea. Then, baby was measuring 7 weeks 1 day, exactly a week ahead of the previous week, with a heart rate of 144 bpm. My RE was pleased and instructed me to schedule my 10-week scan and blood test with a fetal development center they recommend. Her confidence doesn’t really comfort me and I don’t plan on making the appointment until the last minute because I’m still clearly hovering in “if” land. I’m only around 8-weeks at this point, there’s still so much that can go wrong.
That night I puked for the first time. Ask for nausea and ye shall appear. I was walking the dogs before bedtime and my weird cottage cheese Gatorade snack ended up in the bushes. No more cottage cheese for this girl. I’m still really into Gatorade right now for some reason. “Electrolytes, what plants crave.” Can you guess the movie?
While I haven’t puked since, I’ve wanted to. My nausea is like a roller coaster. Friday, while touring LA’s Natural History Museum, I felt like death. I almost puked into a paper bag on the way home like ten times. Really I think dry heaving is worse than puking. At least with puking you get some relief. Then the next day was a little better and the next day was a little better still and now it’s Monday and I feel great. I did take a nap and would like to take another, but I’ve actually enjoyed food today! Woohoo! Now it only worries me for a second because when I feel sick I feel SO sick that I welcome these moments. If I don’t feel sick again for my entire pregnancy I’ll be thrilled. It’s worse than having the stomach flu. For me at least. Unfortunately if the last week is any indicator, I’ll be sick again by tomorrow. It seems to get bad every three or four days and is the worst at dinnertime.
Oh and P.S. I haven’t done a single barre class, yoga class, or cardio workout in a month. This fitnesswhore has fallen off the fitness wagon big time. Thank God for my dogs because I’d be a bacon and cheese stuffed couch potato by now if it weren’t for their daily 45-minute walks.
I’ve got the Tracy Anderson Pregnancy Project rotting in my workout drawer, but I’m still superstitious about doing anything pregnancy related. Like if I let my guard down and indulge myself I’ll somehow let evil forces have their way with me. Am I being ridiculous or just protecting my heart?
Finally, let’s revisit my friends bacon and cheese, mmmmmmmmm. Twice baked potatoes sound amazing right now. With huge dollops of sour cream.