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hold that thought…


this third trimester thing has been fun. by fun i mean at what point am i supposed to feel sexy?

during trimester one, i had nausea but nothing that kept me from getting out and about (for the most part), and i probably actually puked once. maybe twice. trimester numero deux was full of rampant heart burn and acid indigestion. see you later, normal sleeping positions! sayonara, full eight hour night of rest! you love food? it *hates* you now!

diovol was my constant companion (probably went through about 6 – 8 bottles), until it stopped doing it’s chalky, vaguely minty thing and the doctor recommended zantac. hallelujah, praise the lord, there is such a thing as relief! mmm… a night without acid burning a hole in my oesophagus. life has never been so pleasant!

but now, we’ve entered the third trimester… and it is a beast. the monster that has been waiting to rear its ugly head. every night i live in fear. will this simple coughing fit turn into my worst nightmare? will i make it to the bathroom in time this time? i have to make sure the bathroom is cleaned on a regular basis so i don’t have to waste any time doing it with a mouth full of whatever i ate six hours previous.

yes, it’s that bad. last night was probably the worst. i just couldn’t make it to the porcelain throne to assume the position. the poor sink bore the brunt of my shame.

without power (again – our new apartment was heat-less for christmas, and while it was fun and we’re super thankful, we had to spend our first holiday together with the in-laws *sad face*) we played “let’s see what we can pull together from the cupboards.” saltines and peanut butter anyone? i couldn’t tell if i was looking at the home made guacamole, ferrero rochers, or grilled cheese sandwich from tim hortons.

adding insult to injury – shaking, i had to clean the whole mess up afterwards. i even flirted with the idea of waking the SO up to do it for me. (i’m not that mean.)

if anyone ever tries to tell you pregnancy is a beautiful thing, just know they’re full of shit. sure, once in awhile, mid-puke, you might catch a glimpse of your sweaty, red face in the mirror and think, jesus christ my skin looks *amazing*, but i’m finding those moments get fewer and farther between.

if this is how she feels about me now… i am not looking forward to her becoming a teenager…


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