Mama called the doctor...

I had an OB check-up this morning. All is well with Sissy. She had the hiccups when I listened to her heartbeat. After the appointment, I scheduled my next nine appointments. In other words, I am now scheduled all the way to my due date. For some reason, this makes it all seem like it's happening very quickly. And I am not ready.

There are a million things on my to-do list and I don't know when I'm going to do any of them. I spend every weekend just trying to see Milo and do fun things with him and Andrew. There is no time to design a nursery or organize the onesies and burp cloths. We're only three and a half months away from actually having a baby and I'm pretty sure I need at least six months to get ready. Not good math.

Relief

I was looking through some old blog post drafts that never got published for some reason or another and came across this. Written only a couple months ago and with our sonogram taking place in just a few hours, it seems particularly apropos to post it now.

Today (July 18) was my second OB appointment. The one where we were supposed to get to hear the heartbeat. As it turned out, I never did hear the heartbeat. But I got something much better.

My doctor told us that at this stage in pregnancy, she can only find the heartbeat about half the time with the doppler. I was pretty certain we'd have no trouble hearing it, since I'm 11 weeks, and I was only 10 weeks when we heard Milo's heartbeat for the first time. But I was still a little nervous going in to the appointment, because this was sort of the make it or break it point, at least in my mind. So when my doctor couldn't find it, I of course was a little worried. But she was very reassuring, and even said she wasn't going to try that hard to find it; we'd just go and get an ultrasound instead.

I'll admit, I loved the idea of getting an early ultrasound. Especially if my doctor was confident that things were fine. So Andrew and I headed out to the waiting room, and even though we were being squeezed in between other appointments, we got called back in about two minutes to go get our ultrasound. That was perfect, because I didn't have time to get myself good and worked up and panicky.

On the table, gel on the belly, lights dimmed, and voila. Our baby on the screen. Waving at us, heart beating like mad. Awesome. Cutest 1.5-inch long baby I've ever seen.

More About the Tubes

Last Thursday we sought a second opinion on Milo's ear infection situation and went to an ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat doctor). The doctor checked Milo's ears and told us that he has what they (affectionately, I'm sure) call "glue ear." It means that the fluid has been unable to drain in his ears and has accumulated for so long that it has become thick and gluey. This kind of mucousy fluid is unlikely to drain and will probably continue to become infected.

We also learned that Milo's hearing is being affected by all this fluid, and that he probably has about a 40 percent reduction in his hearing. So that sucks, and may explain why he no longer seems to know his name. I hate that Milo can't hear. How can a little guy learn to speak or begin to understand what we're talking about if he can't hear properly?

Combine the hearing loss with the "unlikely to drain" comment with the fact that I don't want Milo on antibiotics for the next four months, and we had our answer. Milo was going to get tubes. The doctor went over everything with us, explaining the procedure, the recovery, and what having tubes would mean for future care. It was all pretty straightforward. In spite of his pediatrician's hesitation, we were ready to move forward.

Of course, we saw the pediatrician the next day and after discussing the fluid in his ears, Milo's sleeping and eating habits, and the fact that Milo is on the low-end of the growth charts, the pediatrician actually said that getting tubes was probably a good thing for Milo, especially considering that it is still so early in the winter cold/flu season.

This made us feel much better about getting the surgery. We are hoping that we come home with a new and improved baby. (Okay, not a new baby, just an improved one.) I think Milo may start sleeping better. He might have an improved appetite (important for gaining weight). I think he will quit getting ear infections. And I know he'll be able to hear us.

I'm still nervous about taking my baby in for surgery, but I'm confident that we're doing the best thing for him. Surgery is tomorrow morning at 7:30am. Wish us well!

Would you like to hear more about my baby's health?

On Saturday Milo began pulling at his ears. He also had a raspy cough. I thought, if he’s still tugging at his ears tomorrow, I’ll take him to the doctor Monday morning.

On Sunday, he still pulled at his ears. He was even so intent on his ears that he was distracted from nursing—very unusual. I decided that yes, I would take him to his pediatrician’s walk-in hours Monday morning. Better to get it checked out than wonder if I was missing another ear infection.

But then I sort of talked myself out of it. After all, he was in a great mood, and he didn’t have a fever or anything. Plus, I had my PT appointment Monday morning and couldn’t get him to walk-in hours anyway. So I made a deal with myself. If he slept super poorly Sunday night, I’d call the doc in the morning and get him in sometime Monday. If he slept well, I wouldn’t take him to the doctor.

And guess what? He slept through the night for the first time in months. He slept solidly, from 7:20pm to 6:00am.

I went to work, Milo went to daycare, and all was well.

Until 1:00 when I got a call from daycare saying Milo had a fever.

Damn.

A couple hours later we had our diagnosis: another double ear infection. However, since he’s only been off antibiotics for six days, our pediatrician surmised that this was still part of the last round of ear infections, that just never fully cleared up. Sigh.

Milo is now on his third (or second, if you count this as part of the last ear infection) bout of ear infections in two and a half months. He is on his fourth antibiotic. He’s just the saddest little bundle of snot you can imagine.

I did ask about getting tubes, as I hear nothing but good things. But he is still too young for that, and they typically don’t consider tubes until a kid has had four ear infections in a season. And the first six months of daycare are the worst. The doctor said we just have to make it through these six months, and he will probably start to get better. It was reassuring, but still—six months solid of feeling crappy all the time?

I wish I’d trusted my instincts. For the first time, I really felt like something was wrong that needed to get checked out. I just knew he had another ear infection. But I let myself get talked out of taking him to the doctor. Andrew wasn’t convinced Milo was really sick, we both had work, and I wasn’t able to come up with solid evidence that he needed medical attention. It was mostly a feeling. But I was right. And if I’d trusted myself a little more and gotten him to the doctor a little sooner, Milo might never have even gotten the fever.

There’s always next time, right? We’ve still got almost four months to go before we’re out of the ear-infection zone.

Sick? Who, me? I iz all better nao. Lets play.

A Recurring Theme

Last Thursday Andrew got a call from daycare: Milo has a fever, better come pick him up. Andrew took off work, picked up Milo, and tried (unsuccessfully) to reach me for a couple hours. Eventually I got his messages, felt incredibly guilty for not being there for my poor sick baby, and rushed out of the office, just in time to meet them at the doctor's office.

Turns out Milo had another ear infection. Antibiotics were prescribed. Andrew and I sighed at the prospect of forcing unpleasant fluid down our baby's throat for the next ten days. We were also told to expect diarrhea with these antibiotics. So yay...

Over the next couple days, antibiotics were administered. Some went in the mouth, much was spit out. Frustration was felt by all involved parties. And, as expected, diarrhea was dealt with. We bought probiotics and yogurt in an attempt to combat the diarrhea, but Milo was pretty tired of various things being forced upon him and adopted a clamped-shut jaw policy.

Saturday evening, the fever returned with a vengeance. My baby was absolutely burning up. Pitiful. We called the nurses, who said to give him Tylenol and wake him up every four hours or so during the night to check his fever and give him more medicine. If the fever was still high in the morning, call back.

Fever stayed high through the night and the next morning, so we called back. They said that we could probably wait until Monday morning to see the doctor, but if something changed (like he quit eating or fever spiked even higher) we should take him to Children's Mercy urgent care. Or if we just got anxious and wanted him to get treated right away, we could take him in. When Milo threw up and wouldn't nurse, we took him to urgent care.

An hour and a half later, we had our diagnosis: still an ear infection. But hey! It's the other ear now. But shouldn't the antibiotics have been working on both ears? I asked. Maybe he wasn't getting the full dose, said the doctor. Damn, we said. Kid, you've gotta quit spitting that stuff out.

A different antibiotic was prescribed—this one just a once-a-day—but we had to start over with our ten-day course. Supposedly this new medicine tastes better than the other one, according to kids who are old enough to express their opinions. Milo might disagree.

There is nothing worse than shoving medicine down your kid's throat. I feel so entirely helpless, because he hates it and I hate it, but I know I have to do it for his own good. Why hasn't anyone come up with a better way to give babies medicine? I think a patch would be much better. Can someone work on that for me?

Four-Month Stats

Milo had his four-month check-up this afternoon. Here's the scoop:

• Weight: 13 lbs., 14 oz. (30th percentile)
• Length: 25 in. (60th percentile)
• Head Circumference: 17 in. (75th percentile)

At four months, Milo loves to hold on to his feet. He tries to put them in his mouth, but is usually distracted by his hands, which always go in the mouth before the feet have a chance.

At four months, Milo loves to "fly." Extreme bouncing, swinging motions, big rocking movements while on Mommy or Daddy's lap—all these things are surefire ways to get Milo giggling.

At four months, Milo has the cutest giggle.

At four months, Milo is generally very easy to please, only fussing when hungry or tired.

At four months, Milo loves his pacifier and is quickly soothed with it.

At four months, Milo babbles a lot. Lots of consonant sounds and new vowel sounds too. We hear ooh, la, ugh, mmm, goo, rrrr, pbbbff (does that count?) and more.

At four months, Milo thinks it is silly when I shake my head and my hair swishes around. He also thinks I look silly dancing. I would have to concur.

At four months, Milo sleeps well, only waking once a night to eat.

At four months, Milo does not nap particularly well, unless he is being held. While this isn't a routine I want to cement, I have to admit I love our cuddle time.

At four months, Milo is not a fan of the hot hot heat. I keep telling him it's not the heat, it's the humidity, but he doesn't believe me.

At four months, Milo is such a little flirt, smiling at everyone he meets.

At four months, Milo has learned to snuggle into my neck for comfort. I love it.

At four months, Milo's toenails finally need clipping. At least on the big toes—the other toenails still haven't really grown at all since birth. I suppose I will have to trim them, which is going to be quite a feat what with all the kicking.

At four months, Milo's fingernails, on the other hand (get it? the other HAND?), are growing like crazy and really ought to be trimmed every other day or so. I am trying to keep them short enough that he can't scratch himself too badly, but I'm afraid of cutting his skin. Plus, that whole "trim baby's nails while he is sleeping" thing? DOES NOT WORK ON THIS BABY.

At four months, Milo likes to watch his crib mobile go round and round.

At four months, Milo has discovered TOYS!!!1! He grabs them, checks then out, puts them in his mouth. Good times.

At four months, Milo adores his daddy and loves playtime with him.

At four months, Milo is beginning to appreciate storytime. He looks at the pictures and will sit calmly while we read (most of the time).

At four months, Milo enjoys baths. He especially likes having the warm water poured over his chest and belly.

At four months, Milo is still exclusively breastfed. Unfortunately, I still have to use the nipple shield. When Milo is faced with boob sans shield, he's all, "WTF? What am I supposed to do with this thing?" whereas with shield, he's all, "NOM NOM NOMMMMMIIIILLLLLLLK!!!"

At four months, Milo drools a lot and will suck on anything that comes near his mouth.

At four months, Milo has begun to roll over! He typically only showcases this skill early in the morning. I still haven't captured it on video. He rolls from tummy to back, and just a couple days ago he rolled from back to tummy. Our pediatrician says it's time to start babyproofing the house. Um, what? Wasn't he just born, like, a couple of weeks ago?

At four months, Milo is apparently starting to teethe. The doc says she can see the ridges or something in his gums that come before the teeth. Again, what's with the teeth? He was JUST BORN.

At four months, I am clearly in denial about how big my baby is getting.

At four months, I think I am becoming a very good mommy, and I have to say that I am pretty darn proud of myself.

No, not tortellini. Torticollis.

A few days ago I mentioned that Milo seems to prefer his right side. Like I said, he primarily looks to the right—even if we're talking to him in funny voices and making silly faces and gestures from the left. He might even smile, but he won't turn his head. We can sort of physically turn his head to the left, but he doesn't seem to have the same range of motion as the right, and he always quickly turns back toward the right.

So at his check-up on Monday, I mentioned this all to his pediatrician. She examined him, noting that yes, he did seem to look more to the right. She also noticed that he was getting a bit of a flat spot on his head. While I hadn't noticed it, I wasn't surprised at all to hear it. When he sleeps, he always turns his head the same way. Unfortunately, the doctor isn't convinced that this is a totally normal thing for a baby to do.

She suspects that Milo might have torticollis. Basically, this is a condition where the muscles in the neck are too tight on one side—maybe from odd positioning in the womb—and they don't loosen up on their own. Of course I googled it. Apparently this condition can require surgery if it goes undetected (and therefore doesn't get corrected early enough). Which is worrisome. But we are detecting it. If his right-side preference is, in fact, "it." I don't really think Milo has torticollis. He CAN look to the left. Maybe not quite as far, but he has some ability to turn his head both directions.

Regardless, we're going to get him evaluated. Our pediatrician referred us to Infant & Toddler Services. They focus on all sorts of early intervention for the kiddos, from problems like deafness or Down's Syndrome to speech delays and motor skills delays. They are going to send two people to our home to evaluate Milo. If he qualifies, he will begin seeing a physical therapist who will work with him to develop and stretch his neck muscles. If he doesn't qualify, a physical therapist will still teach us some exercises we can do with him to strengthen his muscles and encourage him to look both ways. They'll even reevaluate him after a few weeks or months to see how he is progressing. And it won't cost us a dime. It's all paid for by the state (and our tax dollars, I suppose, blah blah blah).

Since the check-up, we've already been focusing on trying to get Milo to look to the left. We lay him down facing the other way in his crib. We hold him using the opposite arm we normally do. We physically turn his head and try to get his attention with little toys and things. And it might be doing some good. We've already noticed that he looks left a little bit more often. There's still no question that he prefers the right, but I'm confident that he'll be just fine—no surgery required.

My Poor Sick Baby

Milo got sick on Tuesday. He's still not 100 percent, but it's clear that he feels much better. But Tuesday was rough. He had a cold, maybe. Something was filling his nose and throat with mucus and making it hard for him to breathe. He kept choking and gagging, coughing, trying to clear it out. But he couldn't. His little eyes would open wide and my heart would stop every time he couldn't catch his breath. He slept most of the day, or would just lay there, his eyes half shut and his mouth hanging open, completely worn out.

I was truly worried about him. For the first time since I became a mom, I felt profoundly responsible for him. Milo needed someone to care for him and try to make him feel better, and that person was me. I was the one making the calls and deciding whether to give him saline drops or if he needed his nose sucked out with that bulb thing. I've sort of felt this before, this surprise that I am the decision maker.

Mommy, does Milo need a hat? Is he warm enough? Do you think he's hot, Mommy? Could he be hungry?

I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine.

At first it was overwhelming, making the decisions, but with every day that goes by, I do get better at guessing what he needs. Sort of. But this sickness thing just about killed me. In some ways, I feel like I caused him to feel that way.

It may have been completely unrelated; it may have been coincidence. But I believe it was not. On Monday, Milo received his first two vaccines. I believe that the vaccines threw his immune system into overdrive, making his tiny little body think it needed to fight off something that wasn't there. Or, the vaccines messed with his immune system, making it easy for any little germ to actually give him symptoms. Or maybe he was literally responding to the vaccines themselves, a type of allergic reaction or something. The doctor's office told me emphatically that Milo's symptoms were in no way related to the vaccines. But I'm not so sure.

So why do I feel responsible? Because I decided which vaccines to give him, and when he should get them. I am the one who has been reading about the vaccinations and making the call on going against the medical grain and putting Milo on an alternate vaccine schedule. And I do believe in vaccines as a general rule, but I hate to see Milo feel so bad. Maybe if he had been a little older before starting the immunizations, or maybe if I had been eating healthier, he would have gotten even more nutrient-rich breastmilk. Maybe I could have prevented this.

On top of that, seeing him get that shot just about broke my heart. His face got all red, and he screamed, loudly, over and over. It couldn't even be described as a cry, it was pure screaming, from pain and shock. I immediately started crying. I picked him up after the shot and held him closer than I ever have, and he just buried his face into my shoulder and continued to scream. He did calm down in about five minutes, but continued to sigh in distress for another twenty. Three days later, I still feel like crying about it.

So all this? This is parenthood, isn't it?

The Stats

At Milo's one-month check up, he measured up quite well.

• Weight: 9 lbs., 14 oz. (50th percentile)
• Length: 21 1/4 in. (50th percentile)
• Head Circumference: 15 1/2 in. (75th percentile)

At one month, Milo eats about every two and a half to four hours during the day, and about every three to seven hours at night. This means that Mom and Dad are up just twice a night usually for diaper and feeding duty. The doctor says that since he's eating well and gaining plenty of weight, we can let him sleep as long as he wants during the night. We're hoping Milo will soon see the benefits of getting a solid eight hours of sleep (in a row).

At one month, Milo usually has one or two fussy periods a day. He is sometimes calmed by holding him over your shoulder and patting his back (and sometimes not). He is quickly soothed by his pacifier (Andrew calls it the baby easy button) but sometimes just as quickly spits it out.

At one month, we have both come to the conclusion that Milo sleeps better when he's really warm. He now wears both a footie sleeper and a fleece sleep sack to bed, and sometimes a hat as well. If we also feel chilly, we add mittens to Milo's ensemble.

At one month, Milo still squeaks and grunts while he eats. Much to my chagrin, he sometimes twists and turns while eating, as if trying to get in just the exact right position. I have one word for this: ouch.

At one month, Milo makes the loudest, gruntiest, wettest breathing sounds at night after I lay him back in bed after eating. Andrew and I both are on high alert, listening for sounds of spitting up, choking, or other baby distress. When it gets especially bad, we pick him up, try to burp him, give him his pacifier (which he usually spits out), and make calming shushing sounds. This typically puts him to sleep, and then it's hit or miss as to whether he'll wake up again when we lay him back down.

At one month, I no longer have trouble sleeping with a nightlight on.

At one month, my regular clothes are nowhere near close to fitting. Sigh.

At one month, this whole mom thing is starting to seem just a tiny bit easier and not so stressful. Believe me, it's not easy and I have so much to figure out still, but I'm getting there. And Milo is a good teacher. He's very patient with me. I hope sometime soon he will smile and let me know he thinks I'm doing okay.

At one month, Milo loves giving Mommy kisses.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh . . .

Last entry written a long time ago. This one was just a day after the previous entry, on August 27. And get ready for new, improved, up-to-date posting, because today I'm officially in the 2nd trimester, baby! Woo!

There’s no denying it. There’s definitely something alive in there. I heard the heartbeat to prove it.

Yes, my doctor’s appointment was today, and we got to hear the heartbeat for the first time. At the beginning of the appointment, my doctor told Andrew and me that sometimes you can’t hear the heartbeat, but if she couldn’t find it, she would do a sonogram to check the viability of the pregnancy. Either way, by the end of the appointment, we would know for sure that there was a baby in there, alive and well.

When I heard that I might get a sonogram, I almost wanted to not be able to hear it, because seeing that little person moving would be incredible. But now I’ll have to wait another eight weeks for that. Sigh. But of course, the extremely positive side is that I did hear the heartbeat, and it was amazing.

I didn’t have quite the reaction I had in my mind. No tears. I surprised myself a little, because I just couldn’t stop grinning. That was my baby I was hearing. That tiny little rhythmic sound is going to grow up and someday I’ll hold her or him in my arms and feel that same little heart beat next to mine. (Awwww)

The moment didn’t last long. The doctor let us listen for about fifteen seconds, then she was done. I could have listened to that sound all day.

Preparing for the Heartbeat

Written on August 26, when I was ten weeks and one day pregnant.

Tomorrow is our second prenatal doctor’s appointment. This will be one of the momentous ones because we’ll be hearing the heartbeat for the first time. I’m really excited about it.

I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time, for much longer than the length of the actual pregnancy thus far. For me, hearing the heartbeat is one of those key moments in your life, like the moment that having a baby all becomes real. When my sister was pregnant, I was so excited to even just hear about her experience hearing the heartbeat.

I’m afraid that I’ve built it up way too much. I keep picturing the scenario—Andrew and I will be gripping each other’s hand, waiting for the big moment. As the doctor moves the wand around my belly trying to find the heartbeat, my own heart would pound in anticipation. And then . . . whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Perhaps I’d cry. Andrew would squeeze my hand and kiss me, both of us completely overwhelmed with emotion.

But in reality, it can’t possibly be like that. It might have been, but surely reality can’t live up to my super-idealized version, can it? In reality, I imagine it will still be a great moment. We will probably hold hands, and my heart will certainly be pounding. But I don’t think I’ll cry. And can a moment I’ve imagine a hundred times still change my life?

The books tell me that at this stage, the baby is about an inch and a half long, from crown to rump. That’s fairly good sized. It’s so strange to know that there’s a real, growing person in there and I can’t feel it or know exactly where it is. Not “it,” “he or she.” I think I still say “it” because it doesn’t quite seem real yet. Maybe after I hear the heartbeat I’ll start saying “he or she” with more regularity.

9 weeks down, 31 to go

Another post, this one written on August 19. Spoiler alert: the second anti-nausea pill worked!

Today I am nine weeks and one day pregnant. And being pregnant is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Somewhere between weeks six and seven I started feeling terrible. All the time. Constant nausea, lots of vomiting, extreme fatigue… I got to where I felt like I couldn’t do anything. About five days ago, Andrew’s concern for my well-being (and Cupcake’s, obv) got him to call the doctor and I ended up getting a prescription for an anti-nausea medication. But honestly, I’m not sure it worked that well. But it did make me soooo tired. The first day I had it (Saturday, luckily) I was awake for a total of about seven hours. And I still threw up several times that morning.

So it’s been a rough road. This morning I called the doctor again because I’ve lost about 8-10 pounds in the last three weeks and I wondered if that is a major concern or just a small concern. The nurse said it wasn’t good and that I really needed to focus on my hydration. And then she prescribed another anti-nausea medication. This one might be working a little better, but it’s only day one. Who can tell?

Have you ever felt sick for four straight weeks? Felt like you have the worst hangover, and nothing makes it go away? That’s kind of what this is like. Smells are overpowering, heat and humidity make me queasy, and no food sounds appetizing (with the possible exception of macaroni and cheese, which has become a staple for me).

I took a PTO day from work today so I could get some rest. Going into work every day has been awful. I sit there at my desk, just trying to think about not feeling bad. The drive alone takes all my energy up. I’ve decided that if the new medicine doesn't work, for my health and sanity, I’m going to basically take a couple weeks off work. Maybe use a combo of PTO and VTO (voluntary time off, which means unpaid), maybe try to work from home when I can, maybe get on short-term disability. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to catch my manager to talk about it. I just know that on the days I am home, I feel better, throw up less, and am generally more relaxed. And I don’t think stress is good for Cupcake. I wonder if staying home for a couple weeks is the right thing to do. If I go unpaid, will it affect our budget later? When I have the baby, I would love love love to take the maximum maternity leave that Hallmark allows, which I understand to be six months. Of course, the majority of that time is unpaid. Andrew and I have some figuring out to do, if we can live for a few months on a single income. So if I go for a few weeks unpaid now, how would it affect us later?

I wish it were easier. I think about my sister, who had essentially no morning sickness with Austin. Yet, she wasn’t working during her pregnancy and had more flexibility anyway. I keep hearing that morning sickness equals a healthy pregnancy and blah blah blah. But there are plenty of healthy pregnancies—like Courtney’s—that have no morning sickness at all. And I know I probably sound all complainy and whiney, but you try being sick nonstop for weeks on end with no end in sight and see how you handle it. I feel like I’m at the end of my rope, but I still have to hold on. But for how much longer?

You may call her/him Cupcake.

This post was written on July 28. Bear with me; just a few more entries to go before we're all caught up.

Today I am six weeks pregnant. I had my first doctor’s appointment yesterday, and everything went well. Andrew and I saw a nurse practitioner instead of my regular doctor because my doctor wasn’t available for another four weeks, but the woman we met with was great. She was friendly and said all the right kind of things.

My official due date is March 23. Nerd alert: Andrew hopes Cupcake comes early on March 14 so the birthday will be pi. My next appointment will be in four weeks, and at that appointment, we’ll get to hear the heartbeat. I am very much looking forward to that. It’ll seem so much more real.

Although this pregnancy is definitely starting to feel very real, because I have been very sick. Or maybe not so sick compared to other women, I don’t know. I just don’t feel 100 percent. It’s a hard thing to describe. I’m exhausted. I’m nauseous, and don’t want to eat much, yet I’m hungry all the time. All day long I just feel off, like hollow and achy and I just want to lie down. This morning was the first day I actually threw up, and that was not fun. I threw up twice this morning, the second the kind of vomit that actually comes out your mouth and your nose. So gross. But I had to get to work, so I managed to get dressed, and I took a plastic trashcan with me in the car, and I think you can guess why that might have been necessary. But I got to work fine, and even made it through the whole day.

I haven’t been exercising as much as I want to. It’s so hard, struggling to make it through the workday. I just want to eat whatever I can put together the fastest, then lay on the couch and do nothing. I did go for a 45-minute walk after work today. It wasn’t fast, but I’m glad I got out of the house for awhile.

In the evenings, after dinner, I usually start to finally feel better, almost normal even. Except for the tiredness. But it sucks, because just when I’m starting to feel okay, it’s time for bed, and I know that when I wake up I’m going to feel terrible. Mornings are by far the worst for me. I’ve been sort of late to work practically every day, and if the throwing up continues, I don’t think that’s going to improve. I wonder if I’ll have to end up telling my manager at work that I’m pregnant before I wanted to if I end up being sick and late all the time. Plus, I’m finding it very hard to concentrate on anything, and I’m afraid my work will start to suffer.

I think this entry is awfully random. My thoughts just aren’t coming together, but I wanted to write something so I’d remember how it felt the first week and a half I knew I was pregnant. So to sum up how it feels? Nauseating, that’s how it feels.