That last couple of weeks I haven’t been writing much, because every time I sit down I fall asleep. And I’ve been quite sick. All food has smelled, looked, and tasted like poison that will kill me if I have to eat it. Except for white bread & tomatoes (eww, ick, I don’t like white bread & haven’t since I was a kid).
My days have started with a precious 20 minutes or so of no nausea, and I’ve used that time to feed my kids & get the lunches packed. Oh, and gulp down my one cup of coffee. The dayhome kids start arriving around 7:15 or so, Isaac gets on the bus about an hour later, and by then I’m starting to feel BAD.
Periodically throughout the day I eat white bread & tomato sandwiches (yes, multiple sandwiches. Because you all know how much worse the all-day-long sickness is on an empty stomach). By the end of the workday I’m exhausted, and the sickness is peaking. I make supper while keeping all the windows open and the stove fan on; I dish it up and nurse a glass of ginger ale while everyone else eats. I don’t actually get hungry for cooked food until 9pm. I eat like a starving POW and crawl off to bed by 10pm.
But yesterday! Yesterday morning I woke up hungry. Hungry! Praise be! Not for tomatoes! I had breakfast and waited patiently all day for the sickness to hit me… but it didn’t. I felt good all day. I don’t feel sleepy until midnight most nights (that’s not so good) and I’ve been waking up at 5:30 (yikes!) but at least I’m not sick. Today, same thing. So I think the worst of the sickness may be behind me.
Which means NOW I’m freaking out about everything I need. After James was born, I was determined not to have another baby. I got rid of a lot of stuff. Plus the crib we used for both boys was recalled. And the carseat is too old. And I loaned out so many bins of baby clothes I’m not completely sure where it all ended up. The baby’s room needs to have the carpet removed and new flooring put down. Not to mention a new paint job and a light-blocking blind installed. I need a plan for who will take the boys when I go into labour. I’m not telling my client parents until we’ve heard the heartbeat (haven’t yet, my last appointment was two weeks ago and we couldn’t pick it up) but I’ve composed and re-composed the email in my head a thousand times. (As a daycare provider, I’m going to be asking a lot – basically, that everyone be ready to find alternate care for a week, with no notice, right after the Christmas holidays. So I’m nervous about it.)
I am a worrier by nature. And now that I’m not distracted by feeling seasick, I have lots of time and energy to worry.
However! all that being said, it’s a fun kind of worrying. I like looking up pictures online of what The Tadpole looks like now. Just like with my last two pregnancies, I’m all about the myriad birthing & mega-family shows on TLC – a good cleansing hormone cry feels so satisfying, doesn’t it? We’ve started the traditional months-long arguing about what to name him. Or her. I’m already excited to meet the little one, to have a newborn’s wee round head to sniff again, even to have the sleepless nights.
But in the meantime…
Anyone have a crib they’re not using?