I’m pregnant, y’all. Preggo. And it’s too early to tell most anybody, but of course, I really really really wanna talk about it. And now I have a space for that.
Today, I am 6 weeks pregnant. That’s weird, because I actually got knocked up 4 weeks ago, but they do the countin’ from the first day of my last cycle. So I’m 6 weeks, and The Internet tells me this little nugget is about the size of a pomegranate seed.
For being so tiny, this pomegranate-seed-sized-bebe sure is making me tired. I have learned (the hard way) that I actually need 9 hours of sleep. NINE. If I only get 8 hours, I turn into this queasy-pukey, zombie version of me. Soooo tired. 9 hours of sleep, though, and I feel almost normal! I can eat normal food and form sentences—things that I took for granted just a few weeks ago.
- I’m so glad I didn’t enroll in grad school this semester. I think it would be impossible.
- My new bedtime is 9:30 pm. Really.
- Lemon-flavored cough drops take the edge off my nausea (which set in a couple days ago, so around 5 1/2 weeks).
- I’m dealing with a heavy, heavy fear that something will happen with this pregnancy, and all I want is for the little nugget to stay put and keep cooking. Several times a day, I have to take deep breaths and remind myself: the entire human race, billions of people, got here because women got pregnant, stayed pregnant, and gave birth to healthy babies. Take care of yourself; there is nothing else that needs to be done. I also remind myself that it’s a good sign that I’m so tired and queasy. It means my body is busy doing its thang. This is comforting to me at a time when I don’t look pregnant or feel baby kicks yet.
- I’m tired, I’m nauseous, and I can’t have coffee… and I don’t really care. It’s so beyond worth it. Yes, I have these symptoms, and no, they are not my idea of a good time. But I really do not mind one bit. This has surprised me, a lot. I was especially surprised at how easily I gave up the coffee!