I’m a little over 12 weeks. Baby is healthy and growing just like she should be. Well, I think it’s a she. And I don’t like the name Kate anymore. Baby is the size of a large plum. She has little fingers and toes and her heart rate has been in the 160s every time we’ve listened. All I’ve eaten the last two weeks are bean burritos from Taco Gringo. I bet my baby is born with the toots. I’m irritable but trying to not snap anyone’s neck that even looks at me……….which is harder than you think when you’re literally walking around with a human being growing inside you. The morning sickness, or as I like to call it – all day sickness- has almost been the death of me. My husband thinks I’m being dramatic. So I puked in his truck the other day. On accident. Smell ya later, first trimester. Here’s to a vomit free second tri.
So. I’m pregnant. I’m about ten weeks. Baby is the size of a big green olive, which is ironic because the thought of olives makes me want to vomit. Along with most foods at this point. I’ve gained six pounds. That’s a lie. I’ve gained more. But I tell myself six because it sounds a lot better. I’m more tired than I’ve ever been in my entire existence. Smells — any of them — make me puke. My hairspray. My husband. My fabric softener. My car. My dogs. My students. My lotion. Everything. Just smells. The only thing I want to eat is chicken nuggets from Wendy’s. Oh. And ice cream. ALL. THE. TIME. That’s why I’ve only gained six pounds. I’ve chosen the healthy route. My students are confused because my stomach is growing at an abnormal rate. My husband thought for sure the ultrasound would show two humans growing inside my body. But no. Just one little Olive swimming around sucking the energy right out of me. Kate. If she’s a girl. Boy has no name. That is where we are. Ten weeks. Happy as larks. Clueless as could be. Almost parents.