Friday, November 25, 2005

First trimester blues

Yesterday was an amalgam of horrible nausea and family time -- a lovely combination that never left me time (or, to be honest, the urge) to get near the computer. I tried really hard to be grateful about this pregnancy, but that was tough... I felt just miserable after I convinced Darren to make me French toast for breakfast, then promptly went into the bathroom and lost it. Watching 93 back-to-back episodes of "Bringing Home Baby," a TLC show that chronicles the 36 hours after a couple brings their first child home, didn't help much, either, between the sleeplessness and the confusion and the overwhelmed-ness every single couple experienced.

Still, I eventually felt somewhat better, and even managed to make an apple pie, complete with homemade crust (though I had to get Darren to take the trash out before he left for work this morning; the smell of rotting apple peels was a bit more than I could handle). We also spent some time going through a book of Irish names that my mom sent us. We've started a list of potential baby names, which is just a bit unreal. Unfortunately, one of our favorites is also on the Social Security Administration's top 20 list from last year, but lots of the others aren't. (We've also been checking this cool site, which displays the relative popularity of a name graphically; it's totally addictive.) I think we've decided not to talk about specific names with other people, since we have enough trouble agreeing just between the two of us. And we certainly will not be following in the footsteps of one of my cousins, who had the family vote on his daughter's middle name.

Anyway, we spent the late afternoon and early evening at Darren's parents' house. D had invited a coworker and her husband, who don't have family in the area. So the six of us had a very mellow and comfortable dinner. I managed to pack away quite a bit of turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing... yum. We brought some leftovers home with us, though I'm unsure if I'll be able to handle looking at them long enough to heat up a plate (I'm having as much trouble with visual stuff triggering nausea as I am with smells... yesterday it was the sight of a cereal bowl soaking in the sink that did me in).

Yesterday I started to worry that I'm not being tough enough -- that I shouldn't be moping around on the couch and making Darren do everything from fill my water glass to make me toast. That I'm being a whiny wuss who should just deal with all this. Then I woke up this morning feeling dramatically better -- eating a couple ginger cookies at about six a.m., followed by two more hours of sleep, may have done the trick -- and realized that I have not been faking it or exaggerating how bad I feel. Certainly, if Darren weren't around I would have to do more for myself -- and I would do so. But he is completely willing to help me, so I'm going to continue to ask for his assistance when I need it.

For the moment, however, I'm going to call the stupid website from which I ordered him a really cool birthday present that has been delayed without explanation and demand that they upgrade me to free overnight shipping. And then I might even -- gasp! -- take a shower. Before noon. Really. Big plans here at Casa MC.

Updated at 10:15 to add: Apparently I jinxed myself by saying that this morning was going well, nausea-wise. So much for this morning's oatmeal and peanut butter toast. Ugh.