I won't torture y'all with my poem about Zofran--the wonder drug that has changed my fucking world. I threw up every day at least once for two weeks. I feel nauseated every second of every day for longer than that. Imagine being carsick for 14 days straight and tell me how chipper you would be. My doctor prescribed a drug, which worked somewhat, but all it meant is that every time I felt sick I was definitely puking.
Zofran just takes that away. It's a million dollars and god bless my OB's office who stalked my insurance company (unbeknownst to me, I had no idea that they were even trying) and made this happen. But Zofran makes you feel normal. Oh y'all, that squeal of rapture you just heard is every pregnant woman in America imagining that shit. This is totally worth the fleeting, but still there, fear that my kid is going to have to go through school with the nickname Flipper. Kids can be so cruel to those with fins instead of left hands.
Don't get me wrong, the other symptoms are still around. I am not my normal self. But for the first time I am not reduced to tears at thinking about the fact that if everything goes well I will be pregnant at least 26 more weeks. That is a long fucking time y'all.
In other news I can no longer suck it in. As an American woman I learned to suck in my stomach at like twelve years old. My stomach is flat(tish) normally but I can make it perfect if necessary. Well, correction, I could do that, because those days are over. It stubbornly pooches out and is hard as a goddamn rock. It's not baby at this stage (though my book helpfully mentions that by next week the baby will be the size of a mouse, thank you people who do not realize how fucking terrified I am of mice and now one is MY BABY?) but gas and fluid and god knows what else. I caved an bought maternity clothes. Because when I lost weight a couple of summers ago I made the decision never to run around in gaping waists again and had everything tailored down. So I am down to one pair of pants that button and I doubt they will button by the end of my business trip in a couple of weeks.
Maternity clothes are a fucking racket. Because the ones I bought were cuter and nicer than most I have seen around (and not much more expensive because DAMN everything costs a million dollars) and they will work. But I would never pay that much for that quality for regular clothes. In my next life I am becoming a maternity designer.
I am slogging through it all, during the busiest time of the year work wise, getting ready for my trip and watching my stomach in HORROR.
But I am not puking daily anymore (this could stop tomorrow in which case we will be back to all woe all the time) and it is BLISS.