I finally made a Dr.'s appointment. It's not for another week but that was all I could get. I have no idea how pregnant I actually am. I'm guessing somewhere around 2 months.
I have been doing ok, all things considered. I remember my first two pregnancies-- me falling asleep as I taught an online class and being woken up by my students wondering what was taking me so long to answer their questions. That was P1. Or P2, me, sitting on the couch, completely unable to move for fear that I will aggravate my nausea and having DH bring me carrot sticks, the only thing I could fathom eating. Those are both first trimester stories.
This time things have been pretty mild. I was hovering around somewhere just below normal-- pretty tired, especially after the kid's bedtime when I pretty much crash. Also mildly nauseous but not enough to stop me from doing most things.
That was all true until a couple of nights ago when, after a slightly long car ride with my DH at the wheel, I had no choice but to leave him with the kids and the bags and retreat into bed. I was so nauseous and tired that I just couldn't function. I fell asleep but that didn't stop the nausea. When I awoke a few hours later I sat up in bed and tried to gauge my status. I didn't have to do much guessing. I got that feeling and made for the bathroom. Barf. Hopefully the first and last one of this pregnancy. It didn't even make the nausea go completely away, and it left me feeling completely wiped out, sitting on my son's pee-pee stool and waiting for some external influence to decide my next move. Because I was still nauseous I was afraid to even rinse out my mouth or take a drink or eat anything. I went back to bed and had DH handle all the crying calls from the kids for the rest of the night. At one point DS came over to our bed as he usually does. Usually it's fine but this time he was bouncing around and kicking me in the stomach. Besides a lack of sleep, I felt like I was on a turbulent flight. This was not the recovery scenario I needed.
Because he'd been up so much during the night, I felt like I should get up with the kids in the morning. That's when I finally had some apple juice to soothe my parched mouth. DH replaced me about an hour later and that's when I finally got some rest. When we went out that day, however, I felt really short of breath and found it very difficult to stand. We were in a big-box store and there was nowhere to sit. I found a rolling set of stairs and perched on there for a while. Finally I realized that the reason I wasn't able to get air into my lungs was because my bra was too tight. I haven't worn one since. Thank God the weather is cool enough to wear a bulky sweater.
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