We're 10 weeks pregnant, but don't tell my OB I told you or he'll flip out. With Bama, we were secretive about the whole thing. This time, I was blogging, people were reading my blog, folks knew we'd transferred oodles of embryos. Oh, and I'm already showing. This week, my breasts started getting heavy. Lots could still go wrong, and lots could be fine. So there you are.
Mister and I have had several, "Ohhh, yeah, that's right," moments about this pregnancy. For example, my stepmother and I were going to visit my aunt. We left early-ish in the morning with Bama, but I needed to get some food. As she slowed to park, then rolled forward one spot, the next spot, the next, "I want to get closer," she said, "JUST PARK!" was my response, then I said, "Oh yeah, that's a sign I'm pregnant." The over-the-top, I'm going to suck your face off, unreasonable hunger response.
I thought I'd hit upon many of the secrets before, but how could I forget:
- Invest in nice tweezers to pluck the plethora of hairs that will sprout from unseemly places like your neck and nipples. Yes, Puritans, I said nipples. And, if you are lucky as I am to have black hair and fair skin, so much the better. Twice a week I spend a good 10 minutes cruising my neck, looking for infiltrators.
- Your hands will stiffen up. Last time, I stopped knitting, holding a pen was agony, the chilly iPhone was excruciating.
- The need to sleep. Anywhere. Like in the middle of the living room floor.
- Psycho dreams. Sexual, violent, bizarre. Don't bother analyzing them because it's not worth it.
- Vocabulary loss. What's the word for … ?