Another Non-Interesting Pregnancy Post

This week I've had some "ok" days and some horrible days.  "Ok" days are defined as still being too nauseated to shower (any and all contact with water is horrible to me when I'm nauseated), but just stable enough to actually leave the house and interact with people other than my immediate family members.

Horrible days are horrible.  I gag whenever I walk if I'm lucky.  I throw up when I'm not lucky.  I sit very still and try to distract myself from everything.

Poor little Spencer is a champ.  He is really growing up, partly, I think as a natural function of time but partly because of our little adventure called "Mommy's first pregnancy while already a mommy."

The unsung heroes of it all are my family.  Oh. My. Gosh.  There would have had to be strong psychiatric drugs administered long ago if it were not for my parents and my sisters.  Seriously.

And there truly could be an entire blog devoted only to all the ways in which Jonathan actively, consistently, and unselfishly shows how much he loves Spencer and me on a daily (typically hourly) basis.

This is not for the faint of heart.  That's why I can't figure out why I'm doing it.  Ha!  I remember being much sicker with Spencer--more vomiting, MUCH more sleeping, more breadsticks--but I don't remember wanting "out."  It was new.  It was an achievement to be pregnant.  It was an unknown as far as duration and degree of sickness.  I don't argue that made it better, but it's almost like I'm reliving it, and thinking, "Yeah, this is the same.  I still hate it.  I think I'd like to be finished now, please."  In today's popular slogan, "I'm over it."

Unfortunately, I'm stuck.  FORTUNATELY, I have a mom and a host of others to remind me that I'm not treading water, I'm making progress.  I am.  On days I feel horrible--making progress.  On days I throw up before I can get Spencer a cup of milk--progress.  On days I manage to get our hard-earned money out of our Netflix account for our TODDLER to watch all day--Oh, what's that?  Yes, it's PROGRESS!  Every day is one step closer to getting our little baby strong enough to get out of me where I can be a decent mother again.  'Cause you gotta hear me when I say that even as a sophisticated incubator, I ain't great.  Sure, I'm "ideal."  And, ok, yeah, there's no other way for a baby this young to survive.  I get it.  But the nutrients (or lack there of) are probably less than those my toddler gets in his daily waffles (which he prefers for breakfast and dinner these days).

So, anyway, if everything could just be regular I could get on with being a good mom.  Now who sounds like a toddler?

I know.  That's not how life works.

Thanks goodness for after bedtime Gilmore Girls viewings.  Outta this life.  Comfortable enough to lull me to sleep.  Entertaining enough to distract a bit from the nausea and allergy symptoms.

Good night.