First trimester

I’m in this weird limbo where I wish I didn’t feel like crap, but I’m afraid not to. Last night, at a wedding rehearsal dinner, the mother of the groom was telling me about her pregnancies. She was sick for all nine months of the first, five months of the second, four months of the third, then stopped feeling sick at three months with the fourth pregnancy. She lost the fourth. Same thing with Boyfiend’s aunt, who after three nauseous, puking pregnancies didn’t feel sick for the three babies she miscarried.

So now, the few times throughout the day, when I realize that I don’t feel completely exhausted and nauseous, I start to feel sick from fear and worry. Half the time I can’t figure out if I’m puking because I’m really sick, or if I just feel like I should be puking. And I can’t deny the exhaustion, but besides being pregnant, I’ve been working like crazy, packing and moving and unpacking and cleaning, so how much of the exhaustion is pregnancy-related?

And I can’t fit into any of my pants. You’d think that five pounds wouldn’t make a whole lot of difference, but nothing will button. I’m stuck wearing pants with drawstrings or elastic waist shorts. Or just walking around the house in a t-shirt and underwear. Last night at dinner, I had to unbutton my skirt just so I could breathe. My dresses won’t fit, either, Despite the fact that they’ll fit over my expanding waistline, they won’t fit over my expanding breasts. Boyfiend couldn’t be happier.