Almost done with the first trimester

I’m almost to twelve weeks, you guys. I’m almost to the second trimester. I mean, I’m in complete disbelief that this is actually happening to me. I’m slowly starting to feel a little better about this pregnancy. Now, instead of taking things day by day and being terrified that I am going to miscarry, I am starting to have bigger goals: Make it to twelve weeks. Make it to twenty. I am allowing myself to think that there may actually be a baby we take home in December. I just might be able to register for my baby showers.

People have been asking me for bump pictures. OK, so I did decide to post them. But here’s the thing. I don’t have this cute little flat stomach that makes people go “Awww!” when they see first-trimester bump photos. There’s fatness mixed in with bloat and the whole thing is less than cute. See, this is how I dealt with my infertility over the last few years:

Only instead of a carrot, it was a large Domino’s thin crust pizza and instead of a hamster it was a big fat whiny infertile.

So, the pictures are up, but I can promise there is no baby bump. In fact, I’m pretty sure what you are seeing there is just a lot of water retention and constipation.

Symptom-wise, my nausea has been a total asshole lately. Since I started the Unisom/B6, things were going well for two weeks, until eleven weeks hit and I don’t know, the baby may have been going through a growth spurt because the nausea hit again full force and the ZOMG where is the nearest sink! came back. Using the bathroom makes me gag. Throwing away garbage makes me gag. Going into the fridge makes me gag. Which makes any refrigerated food item a rare commodity.

I just want to sleep all the time again. Sometimes I do because it’s the only thing that makes me feel better. Sometimes I get a brief burst of energy and feel normal but then the baby is all like, “No, that’s MY energy!” Yoink! And I’m totally cool with letting baby have it all, but still, it would be nice to be able to have the energy to be able to shower every other day or three.

Emotionally, I am on par with what you would expect a hormonal weepy pregnant girl to be. I can cry at the drop of a hat, mostly after looking at rescue dogs or Hallmark “Thinking of you” cards. I haven’t really gotten completely ragey yet, unless you count the times Chris was snoring at night so I elbowed him in the ribs because omfg stop breathing you insensitive prick! I need my sleepz!

So…yeah. Things are still good here. Still pregnant. Still barfy. Still ecstatically happy and impatient to see the baby on ultrasound tomorrow since this will be my last one, I think, until the anatomy scan. But I’m off all my progesterone and estrogen so that’s four fewer meds I have to take a day and I’m so glad to be done with being poked in the ass every night by my husband, as sexy as it was.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s my nap time.