You’re still throwing up? July 31, 2008

So I’m  past the 15 week mark. Apparently this means I’m safely into 2nd tri and should be gallivanting across flowering meadows with my cute new bump and gorgeous pregnancy glow. I should be accompanied by nymphs and flute-playing fairies and should be able to eat whatever I want and have boundless energy.

Not so much. I still throw up pretty much every day. I still can’t eat meat. Last night I passed out, slumped over on my husband’s stomach, at 7:30 p.m. I’m sure as hell not glowing. In fact, I have the worst skin of my life. I smirked my way through adolescence with my once-a-month lone blemish. Now, my chin feels like it contains War and Peace written in braille. It doesn’t look much better. I’ve also recently sprouted a real winner right between the eyes. There’s no dignity in that, my friends.

I tell you this because i promised you the reality of what’s going on. I also tell you because I’m pretty negative and I like to complain. I think that’s partially why my last blog was withering from neglect long before I gave it the official heave-ho. Once I got my BFP, I was so excited and happy that I didn’t have anything to write about.

But Lenny [the fetus is named Lenny while in utero. We're not finding out the sex until delivery, at which point it will change] has rectified that situation quick, fast, andin a hurry. Of course I’m still beyond thrilled to be knocked up. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world (even season tickets at Fenway). That doesn’t mean I’m going to shoot rainbows up your ass about the reality of gestating another human being.

I promised you the reality. It’s not my fault if you forgot your helmet.

Hello, I’m knocked up.

The story of this baby begins with the abandonment of another. Don’t fret, I didn’t give a real baby the Moses treatment. You see, my first baby was my original blog. As much as I loved it, I was kind of stupid (ok, very stupid) about naming my blog. I gave it my name. My full name, in fact. The interwebs are full of freaks and crazies, so I didn’t want to give them any extra ammo. Thus, with some regret, I’ve left that blog and taken on this new identity. You probably didn’t even recognize me with this mustache.  

I’m starting this blog because I want a place to remember the good, the bad, and the freaky parts about being pregnant (your belly button turns inside out. That’s disturbing.)  I’d prefer to do so anonymously, so here we go.

All you’re going to learn about me is that my husband and I are both fanatical Red Sox fans and graduates of Texas A&M University. By the end of this, you’ll know a lot more about the inside of my uterus than you will about me. Understood?

I’d hate for you to think me cold and unfriendly. Here’s my first belly pic to pacify you. I’m nice, I promise.  You’ll see.