Ungrateful. And That's Okay.

8 weeks

So, what would you prefer? Want me to be honest, or peppy and PC? If you chose the latter option, I apologize. Not gonna happen. I believe, that while optimism is an important trait, so is honesty. And I think if someone reads this, and is in her first trimester just trying to survive, the last thing she needs me to do is tell her that I'm coming up roses, thinking every second about the miracle of life! Come, sweets. Let's commiserate. I won't judge you for having a natural reaction to difficult physical conditions! So, anyway, we're off and running...

I know some women really love being pregnant. They enjoy every day of the miracle of life, and they never complain. I can admire their goodness and light and all that, and in a way, I'm jealous, but I'd be a poser and a liar if I told you that's how I feel during pregnancy. Especially the dreaded first trimester. I hate feeling queasy. I hate being scared to drive anywhere because I toss my cookies if I ride in a car. It's a finicky, sickly, exhausting, uncomfortable, not-so-exciting period in this little miracle. So, for now, I do NOT love being pregnant. I am ungrateful and grumpy and really wishing I could just go to sleep and wake up at about 12 weeks along. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.

Now that I've gotten that part is out of my system, on to the good stuff. First, believe it or not, this pregnancy has been easier, so far, than my pregnancy with Wyatt. I spend every day queasy or nauseous, but I've only thrown up a few times. With Wyatt, it was almost every day from weeks 6-14. So while I don't feel fantastic, I'll take it. Second, I've lost weight despite the lesser pukage. Like I said, I'm not PC. I'm female. I like this. Third, I'm getting Chipotle today! And I'm pretty sure I can eat it. I'm pretty sure it will stay where I put it. I could be wrong, but at least I'll be going down swinging. Fourth, we have an ultrasound on Wednesday. I love them. I'd get one once a week if they'd let me. Seriously. And fifth, I'm ridiculously lucky to be married to the kind of man who'll take charge of things when I'm feeling off. Who'll take our son on errands and out riding and out to garage to "help" with projects. Ryan rocks it in the responsible daddy department. He adores his son, loves spending time with him, and makes runs across town to places like Chipotle, monkey in tow, on his vacation, because his wife really really really wants to try eating one of her favorite foods. I'm a lucky girl, and for that, I hope to NEVER be ungrateful.