Life After BFP (Big Fat Positive)
I had a post in the works before I found out I was pregnant. I was going to tell you about how I finally finished the Seraphim Shawl, and my firm vow to knit only on works in progress until all of them were done (20 seconds later I cast on for a new sock). I was going to tell you of the horrors of my shrunken pansy socks (as it turns out washing them in the washer on cold was not such a great idea). Lastly I was going to post a cell phone picture of this lovely antler like flower I spotted outside a California Pizza Kitchen (If you find yourself inexplicably drawn to CPK and you think you might be pregnant, you probably are).
But then I found out I was pregnant.
And a nanosecond later my body started to change. I realized the importance of 24 hours of foundation undergarments because somewhere one of those hormones sent a message to my breasts to expand to new frontiers despite all costs. I was too tired to pick up gusset stitches on my new sock except at 2 am when the insomnia struck (exhaustion and insomnia, who knew?). I'm not proud I said the following to the Husband, I'm making you a baby and you can't make me a sandwich?
I had my first pregnancy freak out. I thought when you were pregnant you felt whatever symptoms you had completely and thoroughly every moment until you gave birth, so you can imagine my surprise when I felt completely normal and asymptomatic yesterday. I should have appreciated the respite but instead I spent my time worrying and fretting (shouldn't I save that for after the child is born and turns into a teenager?). I gave up my super effective, class C asthma medication because I don't want our baby to have a prehensile tail. And food. Food has become something I'm no longer interested in. Those bananas I've been eating since I could chew? Smell totally and utterly revolting now. I found myself getting out of the food line because nothing seemed appealing. Really the only thing that sounds and taste good are Corn Bran Cereal and Corn Tortilla Chips, which leads me to my last worry, that my child will come out looking something like this:
I expect life will get back to normal in a few weeks when the morning sickness begins. Humor me, please.
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