Not really much to speak of in Casa Kirby. Depending on which exit poll you’re following, I’m either 14 weeks or 13w4d tomorrow. I am planning a theoretical post on how, at least to me, HG was way worse than infertility treatments, but I have a bad feeling that will just piss a lot of people off. *
It is officially second trimester time. The honeymoon of pregnancy. Or something like that.
I am less sick. Still sick occasionally, but now it is almost exclusively when I do stupid things – not eat regularly, not drink enough fluids, etc. If you are a regular reader, you know this means I’m still sick pretty often. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer here, folks.
The blood pressure is still iffy. When I don’t take care of myself, I can barely sit up in bed. When I do take care of myself, I can walk the hill near my house to the bus which I take to Tel Aviv to the train which I took to the fancy work place where I impressed people. Ta-da!
Which means that I really need to take care of myself. Point taken.
I managed to walk to shul on Friday night for the first time in months. We were invited to dinner afterward with friends and it really made for a nice evening. They are the kind of friends where, even though we’ve been to their house three times now and have yet to get it together mentally enough to bring something (flowers, wine, friggin anything), they still like us. And that was before they let my husband down half a pan of homemade brownies.
Our friends’ parents recently made aliyah (moved to Israel) and we got a chance to get to know them a bit better. Even with my mushy preggo brain, I thought the conversation was fascinating. I love it when cool people move here and become our friends.
In other news, I have some fun new “symptoms.” Most women have heard of linea nigra, the dark line of tummy, et. al hair that creeps down from your belly button to your L’il Green Patch (sorry if I just ruined that Facebook app for you, but that’s always what it makes me think of – and then I giggle). Clearly moving from one hemisphere to another has confused my body. Instead of growing down, mine is growing up.
My belly looks like Sasquatch. Not good. My breasts are going to have goatees before this is all said and done.
I no longer have to pee all the time, which is a blessed relief. And I’m much less tired. Still weak, but the doc says it’ll take about three weeks of regular eating to get my nutritional balance out of whack.
Although I still haven’t gained any weight, it would appear that my body has played musical fat stores and moved them around a bit. Some skirts are now too tight if I try to put them across the slowly developing bump. And some tops really looked stretched across said bump. But the same tops are now baggy in the arms, which is a total first for me. When I weighed about 97 pounds and was 4’11, I already had flabby arms. So this is new. And I very much like it.
I have developed painfully strong cravings for Ungar’s gefilte fish. It’s enough to make a girl move to Kiryat Sefer.**
I still can’t make a Number Two regularly to save my life, but I’m averaging weekly. I like to think of this as efficiency. I spend less time trying to go. And, as a bonus, the deposits are roughly the size, shape and density of tank shells, so I’m thinking of selling them to the Israeli military as a way to finance an extended maternity leave (3.5 months are fully paid in Israel).
It does cause one to wonder where all the food goes. I mean, I think my bowels are defying the laws of physics – especially that bit about not creating or destroying matter.
And finally, I read some of the scarier parts of What to Expect. I have decided I would rather not have an emergency birth at home alone. Not that I had really looked forward to it, but now I know for sure.
* In a nutshell, infertility was difficult and trying, but at no point did it make me this sick, this depressed or make my husband really worried about my health. Infertility treatments – up to and including IVF, at least – wouldn’t make me think twice about trying for another child. But HG will take a hell of a lot more preparation and advance planning. More to come.
** Kiryat Sefer is a very religious town just across the highway from Modiin. I have never been there. But they sell my favorite gefilte fish. I would take to living there like a cat to water.