Remember a few posts ago? "...if I were you, I would go ahead and prepare myself for an onslaught of bitchiness here at Sarah's Stories for at least the next month" ring a bell? You've been warned.
I have pimples. And not to sound bratty, but I don't get pimples. Like, ever. That is, unless I'm pregnant. And then my skin looks like that of a 13 year old girl. Not just a few pimples. I just counted, and I have 19, NINETEEN, freakin' pimples. What in the world? Why can't I be one of the women who glows while pregnant? Instead I shine... oily pimply shine.
It's not just the acne. I'm on a roll... if you don't like my whining you might as well check out now...
I'm not showing yet. No, no, I am in the lovely in-between stage of pregnancy where I just look and feel FAT. Waistline is rounding out, but not in a cute baby belly way, more in a "she sure is gaining some weight, she'd better watch herself or soon she'll be HUGE!" way.
I thought my nausea was subsiding. I really, really did. Until today. Not even my prescribed Zofran helped. I wanted to BARF everywhere. I almost wish I had, I might have felt better.
Gas. I'll leave it at that.
I can't get through the day without a nap. It feels like I'm dragging twice my body weight on 1 hour of sleep every day.
I don't think I'm moody yet, but Mike will probably disagree on that point.
Oh, goodness... you do know I'm happy about this, right? I feel the need to clarify. I realize I sound irritated more than anything else. Which isn't true. I'm blessed more than anything else.
1 comment:
I hear you...I always thought they should make a tshirt that said "I'm not fat, I'm pregnant!" Hang in there...things will start looking up soon. :)
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