It's week 14 and I think.....I think I just might be over the nausea. I'm leery to even acknowledge that aloud for fear I will jinx it. I came home from Seattle in May (wedding was lovely, I delivered my speech flawlessly, all was fab) with a six day migraine that had me vomiting in the evenings.
Every time I explain how ill I've been people start throwing around the "twins" word. As though it weren't a DIRTY word! They like to remind me that I have twins in my family and so does my husband. Whenever this comes up I promptly shut down the conversation. I am NOT, no way in hell, having twins. No. End of discussion.
With all the sleep I'm getting I've been a dreaming machine. Dreams about people I don't know, dreams about people that made no significant impact on my life, dreams about making nice, making love, making cookies and angry dreams. I sleep more than cats do now so I suppose it's my brain's way of staying active while my body further mutates.
But I'm feeling better. I've gained 8 pounds so far. My doctor says this is fine, that I could have gained two more by now. I don't think it looks fine though. While in the OBGYN's office I saw these adorable little pregnant girls (and granted, they may have been in their late teens) with nothing bulbous about them save for their cute round little bellies.
I said to my husband "I want to be cute and pregnant, with just a belly, but that won't be me. I'm gonna be Shamu"
And my husband replied: "If Shamu was a crazy white lady"
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