I went to the doctor yesterday to hear the baby’s heartbeat. The ultrasound said many wonderful things: there is only one baby in there, it is in the right place, it has a great heartbeat, and all is well. The ultrasound also said one not so wonderful thing: I am only 7 weeks and 2 days along, 11 days less than originally thought.
The reason this is “bad” is because I hate being pregnant. I hated it the first time, and I hate it this time. It’s true that you forget how horrible it was once you have that little miracle in your arms, because if it weren’t true, I wouldn’t have purposely gotten pregnant again. In fact, I would have had my uterus completely removed immediately after Lexi’s birth.
I haven’t thrown up yet, but I am nauseous. All day. And all night. The doctor gave me some anti nausea medicine, but it hasn’t helped yet… I am mentally prepared for this to last up to 20 weeks. I was excited because I thought I was almost to 9 weeks, which is almost halfway to 20, which almost sounds bearable. So I was pretty deflated when the ultrasound only measured Baby #2 at 7 weeks and 1 measly day. Sure, it is only 11 more days, but 11 more days in morning sickness time is like 2.5 months in real time.
Feel bad for Elian, too. He just got handed 11 more days/2.5 more months of coming home from a full day of work to a house that needs cleaning and a little girl that needs playing/feeding. My hero.