We are so close to 20 weeks like damnit to a cuss!
Honestly, I didn’t think we were going to make halfway. We are taking this pregnancy one week at a time. I’m much more reserved and don’t perform any stupid stunts – no painting the nursery at 35 weeks this time round 😉
Except for my back (which I’ve learned to fool into not hurting so bad) and the cold Henk gave me, the only real complaint I have is spontaneous nausea/vomiting. Really… it’s that bad.
And for funny things too. Any faecal smell sends me retching. Not my own poop, of course; that smells of rosewater and moonshine*. Wiping Amelia’s bum is just about the death of me. Entering the en suite after someone had a perfectly normal bowel movement has me sprinting to the guest loo and greeting my dinner again. What about other nasty whiffs, like a dustbin? We’ve had a few scorcher days these past few weeks. I’ve learned to hold my breath; tripping while running out of the kitchen isn’t on my to-do list.
But it doesn’t stop with smells. Experience shows that sounds are just as guilty into triggering my gag reflex. Please do not blow your mucous clogged nose in my general vicinity. The sound of it alone send my tummy into spasms. And then this morning I had to hear about the cut Fear Factor challenge. Just cause I haven’t eaten anything yet, doesn’t mean I can’t still hug porcelain with dry heaves.
And that presents another challenge. With my ever increasing waistline and pinched nerve or two… let’s just say I’m working on my aim. Gravity is a close ally.
Might need a sensory deprivation chamber in a few weeks 😉
*deliberate alcohol reference