I'm hitting a milestone of sorts, the first of many (I hope). Week fifteen tomorrow. I can't believe it, still. I can't believe it's really true and I'm really pregnant. With each appointment, I hear a voice in the back of my head that says, "This is where you find out it's all been a horrible lie and something is very wrong." But each time where we still hear a baby's heartbeat I build a little more faith, one doppler at a time.
And damn, I don't know how any 2nd children are ever born without the first one dying of neglect. I get up, go to work, come home and sleep. I get up for dinner, and then go back to sleep. I'm behind on emails, phone calls, uploading pictures, cleaning, cooking, laundry, shopping, everything. We have a half-finished closet in the bedroom (put together just enough to put my shoes away, of course) and I have four generations of family photos spread across the basement and I have framed pictures waiting to be hung and I have a new niece to welcome and make gifts for. If Andrew weren't the superstarrest of superstars, I'd be naked, starving, and asleep.
And all I do--ALL I do--is sleep. I must calmly sleep now. And sleep for a few more days.
I haven't had any other symptoms, really. I have a wee tiny belly, and I've felt some stretching, but no real morning sickness or nausea. I told Emily I would gladly take a little nausea for more energy. She looked at me like I was eight kinds of crazy, but then she's had the Nausea From Hell with her pregnancy, so perhaps she's excused. She'd probably gladly give me her nausea. So I guess I can't believe I've been this lucky, that Extreme Tiredness Extraordinaire has been my only real symptom. Or would it be called a side effect? Anyway.
I'm told this ends, although estimates vary. Some say by week fifteen (excellent!) and others say, for sure by the time they go to college.
My dad says not even then.