I'm feeling really morning-sickness-crappy. Feeling sick seems to be all I can talk about; I've not been blogging to spare you from feeling like you need to console me. The likely scenario is that I won't feel better for 3 weeks, so let's just put it like it is: this part of pregnancy sucks. Hard. Now, how about about a little more whining? Like Shakespeare's Duke Orsino in Twelfth Night would say,
"Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die."
(Surfeit is a great verb, don't you think? And maybe, just maybe, I can whack this morning sickness thing back into perspective with enough whining. And maybe not.)
Let's start with the weather. If the weather in Colorado was so freaking hot and dry every summer, I would be forced to move the whole family. This is what I've learned about myself: I HATE semi-arid climates. I know that some people move to climates like this to feel (physically) better. I wouldn't be one of them. Additionally, morning sickness sucks a lot more at 94 degrees than 65 degrees. The relentless, hot, beating-down sun makes it impossible to control my pregnant body temperature and I just feel PISSY all the time when I am outside. It's a lucky thing that all my pregnancies have been mostly over the fall-winter-spring, because I don't think I could handle being pregnant in July. That said, it is time for summer in Colorado TO END. Today, I looked at the weather and saw a full week of full sun, with temperatures in the 80s, stretching out before us and, and... I just felt miserable. Yup. I would LOVE rain and cold and wind. Maybe that makes me sound anti-social, but - ugh, these days - just try to have a conversation with me when I am standing in sun.
My mother wants to know if the morning sickness is worse than before. No, but my attitude is worse than before. I'm keeping Fritz very updated on my hourly discomforts (poor guy). I guess I feel the need to make sure that being 'done with having kids' will have his full support after child number three. I think he's a little shocked by the relentlessness of morning sickness. Yesterday, he actually said: "Why do they call it morning sickness? You're sick all the time!" Um. I don't know HOW he missed that on the first two pregnancies. Because, like I said, I don't think it's much different this time around. I am also making sure to point out how much I would theoretically love to have a coffee with him, but how, in reality, I can't even smell it without feeling ill. Or how a beer seems like a perfect drink after the 73rd day of temperatures in the 90s and full sun, but alas, I have queasy feelings at the sight of the bottle. Fritz's response? He's has started making lots of meals, pitching in more with the boys, and cleaning! I'm trying to be whiny here, so I won't spend too long dwelling on the positive, but, all this Fritz help is great. I don't know why I didn't whine more to Fritz during the first two pregnancies. On the one hand, I feel a little sneaky, since all my whining this time does have an ulterior motive. On the other hand, it's kind of nice to drop the Wonder Woman gig.
I'm also tired. I nap with Mattias. I skip smelly meals to stare at the bedroom wall and let my eyelids droop closed. One day, the boys seemed to be playing so nicely in the basement, that instead of doing the laundry (my usual basement task), I just laid myself down on that cool, unfinished concrete slab floor and closed my eyes while they circled around me with their various push toys and cars. And you know what? It was nice. Later, Fritz came to the basement and asked the boys why a nice, clean blanket was lying on the concrete floor. And I just...crawled into bed and opened a book. (I don't think he ever got an answer from the boys.)
My regular clothes have already gotten pretty uncomfortable. My weight hasn't changed, but my shape has. I pulled out my maternity clothes. (Yes! I still have them. I thought if I got rid of them, that would guarantee another child. Clearly, the inverse is not true.) The maternity clothes don't really fit, either. How can I have so many clothes and none of them fit? I tried to remember what I wore during the first trimester with Noah and Mattias. It's a blur. I finally found a few items that work. Like pajamas. Then I started feeling VERY aggressive towards the ridiculous number of clothes in my closet that don't even fit. The way our bodies swing in size and shape between pregnancy and non-pregnancy feels so wasteful and excessive. Really, I just want to throw out half the clothes in my closet - but that's hard to do when you're looking at another year of extreme change. I guess that I should also mention that I HATE TO SHOP and I hate to spend even small amounts of money on things that are mediocre or temporary, which I'm sure has a lot to do with my anger over my wardrobe bubble.
Well, amazing! After all that whining, I am feeling somewhat surfeited! We'll see how long it lasts.
Oh, and on a related note - there's just One, due at the end of April. (Small sigh of relief.)