The horrors of the first trimester are true. I'm sorry girls, but they are. At least for me. Everyone is different and every pregnancy is different, blah, blah, blah, but I feel like shite.
My boobs are up a cup size and the brush of my nipple makes me want to cry. I mean ouch. Seriously, ouch! My digestive tract is rebelling with fury making these strange cravings and food aversions incredibly difficult to manage. For example, don't even think about making me eat any meat right now - I'm not interested in your chicken, or your steak, or your wild-caught salmon (a fave pre-preggo nosh). No. Ew. But yes, hand me that bottle of mustard and please let me squirt it directly into my mouth.
And I'm tired. Tiiirreed. Like whiny toddler tired. I've been going to bed around 9.30 every night, sleeping through the night, waking up groggy and queasy, feeling better for oh, an hour, then back to Mrs. Sleepy McSleepington.
But despite all these uncomfortable feelings, they make me feel better on the emotional side. Because the sore boobs and indigestion and exhaustion, I know, are all signs of a healthy pregnancy. And for that, I'm grateful. I'm glad I feel like shit.
33 weeks and 2 days to go...
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