Sep
30

Ahoy.

Friday was a trying day. You know you are not quite yourself when you sob brokenly at an Amanda Bynes movie. Actually, the fact that I watched the movie in the first place was probably just as telling, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
First, a word about pregnancy symptoms: as of last Monday, at six weeks and two days, I didn’t have any. I felt terribly unpregnant, and it worried me, as everything is wont to these days. I have been pregnant before, after all, and in my longest previous pregnancy I threw up for the first time at four weeks.
I am telling you all of this in case one of you got here by googling “six weeks pregnant no symptoms miscarriage” or “six weeks pregnant no nausea doomed.” I like to help wherever I can, so let me assure you, neurotic pregnant women of the world (NPWW, Unite!), that you can have no symptoms at six weeks, two days, and feel perfectly awful only twenty-four hours later. Give it a whole week, and you too could be shivering on the couch, wearing a pair of oh-so-stylish Sea Bands and swallowing your own bile! I know! I am a beacon of hope.
So. Yes, I am ill. Last Monday I was fine, and then Tuesday I started feeling nauseated in the afternoons and evenings. I didn’t say anything about it here, in case it was a fluke and I went to my Thursday ultrasound and saw only static, but on Friday, the vertigo began. I am assuming this is pregnancy related, and not the result of a head injury I do not remember sustaining, but when I move my head too quickly (read: at all) or do something strenuous like walk or shift my eyes, I have the alarming sensation of being in a funhouse. A funhouse located on a boat. The nausea is worsening as well, and my list of acceptable foods has dwindled alarmingly in the last two days. Curiously, mornings are my least nauseated time.

I was at work when the vertigo started on Friday, causing me to walk crookedly down the halls from meeting to meeting, and then my OBs office called to say that while my pap smear was normal, I seemed to have a yeast infection. That afternoon, Fedex didn’t deliver my progesterone and syringes, and I was forced into a rather embarrassing altercation at Walgreen’s when I tried to buy a syringe “just to get me through tonight,” which in retrospect was probably not the ideal choice of wording. I topped off the evening with a bit of light googling of “small gestational sac” and “twins measuring behind” before proceeding to the bathroom where I noticed pink spotting. It was around this time that the Amanda Bynes movie seemed like a good idea, and, well, you know the rest. As I said, it was a trying day.
As of yesterday the spotting has stopped, I am still feeling like a reluctant sailor, and thanks to my Sea Bands I have “Physical” running through my head on a continuous loop. I am seven weeks and one day, making this officially the longest I have been pregnant, and I am very, very grateful.

Thank you all for your encouraging comments on my last post. I am not so much worried about the sacs measuring behind (this study was a bit reassuring on that point) as I am about the lack of growth (3 and 4 days in a week). But I have an other OB ultrasound Wednesday and my RE ultrasound Friday, so I don’t have terribly long to wait for more information.

I spent this weekend catching up on my Tivoesque, and wow, Private Practice was HORRIBLE, and I will not be watching that again. The Addison of Private Practice bore almost no resemblance to the Addison of Grey’s, and the only explanation I have come up with for this phenomenon is that in Shondaland, only peripheral female characters (like Addison in Grey’s) may be smart, strong, likable, and nuanced. Primary female characters, on the other hand, are required to be neurotic, whiny, and “kooky.” Bonus points if they are wishy-washy and excessively focused on the bemused Primary Male character, and TRIPLE bonus points if they undercut any show of power or initiative with a concurrent display of the aforementioned kookiness. Pratfalls are encouraged.
On the other hand, Dirty Sexy Money wasn’t half bad, the season premiere of House was so funny I watched it twice, and Friday Night Lights starts soon, so I think I will manage without Ms. Rhimes. Also, the finale of Top Chef is coming up, and while we’re on the subject, I wish people wouldn’t be so mean to Hung. I understand finding him unpleasant in many ways, but come now. Surely he is better than the execrable Dale?

Yesterday I discovered Minute Maid Soft Frozen Limeade, in the Limonada flavor, which is a sort of scrumptious push-up Italian ice stick that I cannot recommend highly enough, especially if you aren’t feeling particularly…fresh. This weekend was the perfect time for this discovery, as it coincided with my realization that we live in a very smelly world (honestly, it is revolting—sing about that, Louis Armstrong) and placing one’s nose close to a cold citrusy thing helps tremendously. So consider that recommendation my gift to you, and feel free to return the favor:
I think I need a book to read, something easy and absorbing. Any ideas? I do not have the energy for anything excessively literary, so no suggestions that I read Anna Karenina in the original Russian, please. I have already reread my old feeling ill standby, my Sarah Caudwell collection (why did she have to go and die after writing only four books? WHY?), and I am in the market for something new. I liked A Girl Named Zippy and I dislike Hemingway. Trashy is fine. Funny is good. No dialect, poetry, or war stories. Nothing on a boat or in a funhouse. I will also accept suggestions for a TV series available on DVD, as I am entirely tapped in that area as well (like: Veronica Mars, Gilmore Girls, The West Wing; dislike: science fiction).
Go!

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |