Here we are at 8 weeks 3 days and as far as I know I’m still pregnant. I’ll know for sure on Thursday when we have our next scan. Given that I went a bit nutso at my doctor a few weeks ago he now seems keen to placate me at every opportunity so has not even tried to suggest I come for scans less often.
I still don’t really recognise myself as “being pregnant” as the fear still looms large but hubby and I have allowed ourselves brief chats where we’ve discussed the concept of sometime in the very distant future shopping for big ticket baby items. The risk of jinxing ourselves is real though so we talk about things in a conceptual way as though it would be what other people would do should they be pregnant.
Symptoms-wise I have observed some pretty feisty heartburn today, some low grade nausea that I would describe as “feeling blah” rather than wanting to puke, and (TMI warning) my “gas” situation is into a new dimension. I always thought the myth about husbands not wanting sex with their pregnant wives was down to their changing shape. Now I’m pretty sure it’s down to their farts.
This is also joining together with regular progesterone-led bloating so my midsection is just a little thicker than it normally would be. My super-skinny jeans are now totally out of the question, but regular skinny jeans with a low rise waist are seeing me through so far. I’ve not felt super tired the past couple of days thanks to a relaxing weekend but I did go to a birthday party on Saturday night and my eyelids were closing on behalf of the rest of me by 11.30pm!
The party was at a sushi restaurant so not only did I have to avoid questions about why I wasn’t drinking but also I had to find creative reasons why I wasn’t eating any sushi. The couple sitting with us who met us for the first time ever at the party must think I’m the weirdest eater ever because I told them I don’t eat shellfish or raw fish because I’m kind of vegetarian (I’m not) and also I told them I was not drinking because I was driving home. Home was less than 2km away and I refused even one drink.
At one point the girl referenced my lack of drinking as “unless you’re pregnant” to which I just laughed excessively but didn’t actually respond to. At the end of the night they happened to leave at the same time as us so I had to hiss to my (not drunk) to give me the car keys so I could drive and keep up the story!! The things we do…
Right now I have one of my cats curled up on my belly. I think he knows our secret as he keeps cuddling my little bloat belly and showing it his love. Either that or he’s really cold. Haha!