S is still managing to find me sexy despite an almost constant pained look from the (all day) morning sickness, enhanced by a very snotty cold.
I was ravaged in the organic grocer behind the bread and eggs.
I’ve also burped more in the last few weeks than I have in my entire life and even S is getting worn down by that one.
The sudden tears are hard to predict but easy to get under control. I usually don’t cry often, so it is a little odd, but perhaps cathartic. This morning the tears were prompted by hearing that the emergency 000 number is being swamped by people calling about the smoky haze through the city, thus hindering genuine callers. People can be so thick.
For now, the tears are handily disguised by my cold. When I’m better, I’ll have to pull myself together.
The nausea gave me a little respite for the first two days of my cold and even though colds are awful, it just felt so good to not have that grinding pain in my belly that sometimes even wakes me up during the night. Nothing I eat makes any difference although it gets out of control if I’m hungry.
The nausea is hard to describe, but it’s something like a combination of the sick queasy feeling you get if you haven’t eaten for most of the day, combined with the sort of nauseous pain you can get from a trapped fart.
I’m ashamed to admit how much crappy white bread I’ve eaten.
I’m still finding it very hard to believe I am growing a baby and wishing like anything I had a little portable wang-cam scanner for home to check that things are still ok in there. S keeps hoping that I’ll start to let go of the need for medical reassurance, but after such an extreme amount of intervention to get this far, I’ve lost faith that my body knows how to do this properly.
IVF is so hit and miss. I feel very lucky to be pregnant after only 7 IVF transfers. All the women out there who are still cycling and heading into the painfully family focused silly season are in my thoughts.
