That stands for 5 weeks 3 days.  I’m still in the part where I count the days, because every one that I am pregnant feels like such a gift.  The panic has gone away, some, and June’s post was reassuring in an "I might as well give in" kind of way.  Sort of like wondering where your allergy meds are as your car is going off a cliff, you know?  This worry is only the beginning.

I’m tired, for sure.  I’ve even had people who don’t know comment at around 2-3 that "Are you okay? You look exhausted!" so I feel like I have tangible evidence that this is not just an anomaly.  I haven’t been too sick, but at 7 each evening, I tend to get the hot sick prickles, if anyone has those.  This is followed by the weird esophageal cramping that is like the precursor to a puke, but remember, I don’t puke. (Not since ’96, anyway. The Chicken Incident.  Nothing like hurling into a government subsidized toilet while the two mentally retarded sociopaths you are working for, sleep.) Then I swig some ginger ale, and hope for the best.  I think the evening thing is related to my vitamin schedule, as I take them at night and one is a B Complex, and B6 is found to lessen nausea.

To veer away from too much panic, I’ve started a paper journal for the squidlet.  I picked up this journal months ago, red leather with a wrap around cover.  I haven’t had a paper journal in years, but this one drew me in, and was on sale for half off.  The only other thing I can do is daydream about the baby stuff we’ll want (I really hesitate to use the word NEED) even though it makes me feel like a materialistic hoochie.  There’s a consigment shop right around the corner from our house, though, that is for baby and kid stuff exclusively.  While there is some stuff I’d like to have new, just because, I’m sitting on my hands to keep from going over and popping in to see what kind of stuff they had.  If they had a used Snap-N-Go (a stroller frame for an infant seat, because the systems seem like such monsters and not that great when I see one) for instance, I could pick that up.  And even though we will probably cosleep, I want the Jenny Lind crib and changing table in white.  It’s the right texture for my room o’ textures ‘sewing room’ (can I stop calling it that now?) and while I plan to cosleep, I’d like to have that option for naps and such, and who knows, maybe cosleeping won’t work for us. (But I doubt it, the biggest obstacle will be the damn cat, whom we already cosleep with and totally hogs the bed.  We are trying to train her to sleep at the foot, but her favorite place is wedged between humans. Sigh.)  I think I’ll want a Pack and Play for the first floor, and for taking to my folks house and the beach and yard and such.  And Amy has a bassinette we can borrow, instead of buying one or a cosleeper.  I also definitely don’t want a Diaper Genie/Champ/PLastic piece of Crap Collecting Crap.  I’d rather dispose of any diapers as soon as possible, if we use disposable, thank you very much.

I was telling Amy how I also wanted a rocker or glider for the room, because I like the idea of sitting in it and looking out the window to the backyard and reading stories or nursing or just hanging out because Squidlet is awake and Dave needs to sleep because it’s a work night.  I got all emotional at that, and tried to backtrack (not only do I NOT PUKE, I am also NOT a crier.)  "I mean, we can sit in it and I will read it Henry Rollins’ poetry! And sing Nine Inch Nails songs! And dress the baby in black onesies!"  Of course, the hormones have taken over, and had me craving this ‘diaper stacker’ this morning. I am a weak, weak woman. Sigh.