The past two and a half weeks have been quite difficult for me. At 8 weeks pregnant, I am constantly nauseous with only a few hours respite in the afternoon. I desperately wish I could just be sick to make it feel better but it doesn't happen. I never felt like this with Sweet One. The only complaint I had after the first trimester was over with her was how tired I was and I knew I was lucky. Add the nausea and my nights already being interrupted three or four times and I feel like I'm barely holding on.
Last night at 11:08 I walked downstairs and did my prenatal yoga workout for the first time since the stick said yes. At one point I cried from the realization that I had yet to be purely excited about this little one growing inside of me. Completely planned and anticipated, I've been caught off guard by how hard it is to take care of myself and Sweet One at the same time. I am constantly in awe of women who do this time and time again because I know that I could not. I instinctively know that two will be enough for me and I am crossing my fingers that there is only one heartbeat at my next appointment! And I also know just how fortunate I am to have gotten to this point.
Thank God! for Big Love. He is stepping up in ways I always knew he would but am still so grateful for. He continues to wake up with Sweet One without complaint as her mornings have been earlier than we're accustomed to over the past week. In the hour and a half it takes me to be functional in the morning he continues to offer to make me breakfast, gets Sweet One dressed and himself ready for work. By the time I'm finally ready and about to walk him to work, it is probably a little later than he'd like but still absolutely no complaint. When he gets home from work he often takes back over the care of Sweet One and plays with her while as I drag myself between a few tasks hoping to feel the slightest sense of usefulness. The day finishes with supper, dishes (which Big Love always does), bath and bedtime. After this is done I usually flop onto the couch and lie there until it is bedtime for me knowing that I only survived the day because of how amazing this man is that I married.
I'm looking forward to the first signs of life in this belly of mine. The first bubbly feelings that evidence there is really a little one growing inside of me rather than some other condition that is robbing me of my energy right now. Until then, I'm trying to enjoy when I am feeling ok and give Sweet One as much good energy as I can possibly muster without beating myself up when I feel like I fail.
On a slightly funnier note, when we were at a crosswalk in Montreal a woman was admiring Sweet One and after a few words said to me, "and you're having another one" while she looked at my belly. This to me was a little victory because I've always made jokes at how my 'pooch' never really went away and while at 5 weeks my belly hadn't yet changed, it still looked like a pregnant belly to a stranger!