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(Note: I originally wrote this entry a
month ago; I’m catching you up on my first trimester!)

I’m starting week ten in this
pregnancy, and that’s the only word for it –

I know I mentioned in an earlier blog that
I didn’t have morning sickness with my first pregnancy.
I’ve not hit the actual puking point in this one, but
I’m definitely dealing with on-the-edge nausea and managing
that seems to take up an inordinate amount of time.

My last pregnancy, I was teaching Pilates
five times a week and had only myself to think of. I was in that
smug, self-centered (in a good way!) place that all first-time moms
are. I was working out several times a week, which helped greatly
with the morning sickness, and had plenty of time to think up
tempting meals.

Now, I’m lucky if I can work out
once a week. I’m still planning snacks several times a day,
but cottage cheese and cheerios aren’t my idea of a good
time. I’m wrestling with a milk allergy that I got during my
first pregnancy, which knocks out a lot of my protein sources. So
some days I simply stare stupidly in the refrigerator for minutes
at a time, wishing something would magically appear that would
taste good to me.

To make matters worse, my daughter’s
diet is suffering because of my stomach. Pancakes for dinner when
they’re the only thing I can come up with that I’d like
to eat. No veggies with those pancakes, either – all
we’ve got on hand is broccoli, and don’t get me started
on that smell. Most of the time I do ok by Maddie, gritting my
teeth and preparing her a nutritious meal regardless of what
I’m interested in. But she’s so used to us eating the
same thing, and doesn’t understand why she’s eating a
turkey sandwich on multi-grain bread while Mommy’s eating
what looks suspiciously like plain bread.

The smell thing’s been harder to
deal with as well, simply because I’m a mom now.
Maddie’s first stomach virus hit right when my “dog
nose” came on. There’s no way around it; a small room
plus a puking child plus a pregnant mom equals dry heaves. And when
Maddie walks up to me and lovingly offers me a piece of veggie
booty? Forget it.

The fatigue has not been too hard to deal
with; Madeleine has, God bless her, been taking predictable naps of
at least an hour’s length every day, and that’s now
officially Mommy’s nap time as well. Everything else suffers:
it used to be the time I’d work out, pay bills, clean the
kitchen, start dinner . . . but at least I’m not falling
asleep while watching her.

The hardest part, though, so far of this
pregnancy (putting aside all the emotional angst about finances and
splitting my love for Maddie with another child, and so on) has
been simply having to be “on” all the time. Last time
around, if I felt sick, I’d take the day off and stay in bed.
If I was tired, I’d sleep in. I pampered myself and no one
thought less of me.

This time, though, Maddie doesn’t
understand why Mommy looks green and doesn’t want to chase
her around the playground. She bounces around the house, looking
bored and neglected, while I rest a few minutes on the couch and
try not to feel guilty. It makes me remember Abby’s second
pregnancy, when she made up a whole slew of games that involved
Mommy lying down –

Doctor – mommy’s the patient.
She’s very ill and must lie on the table wanly while the
doctor asks questions and treats her.

Life boat – mommy’s the
comatose passenger, while the Hero tries to figure out what to do
and how to get rescued.

You get the drift.

When she told me about the games, I

Now I wish I’d taken notes.


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