Reeds I was so naive.  I didn’t consciously think that pregnancy was going to be all sunshine and bunnies.  But I also had no idea.  Who does? 

I hesitate to tell you about the diarrhea that I am having on top of nausea (actually technically I suppose it is underneath it).  Someone will comment breezily: “oh, I had diarrhea every day until Caitlin went to kindergarten” and really… I don’t want to hear that.

Yes I am drinking fluids.

Yes I am eating bananas rice toast etcetera.  Well, not bananas, since I abhor bananas at the moment and just typing the word makes me want to hurl.

Anyway, it is my honor and my pleasure to have nausea and diarrhea and all that goes along with being pregnant.  And this too shall pass.  ha aha h ahhh ahhahah ha.    Yeah.  Any minute now.

My Bioband came today, so I can temporarily retire my “sometimes you feel like a nut” duct-tape contraption.  This is good because the white duct tape was maybe looking like some kind of suicide wound.  Just when things are going so well.  My friend K. brought me a cute sequined bracelet to cover the wristband up, so I don’t even need the Pauly Bleeker sweatbands, another plus since it’s 92 degrees.

When things get difficult, I generally make them worse by worrying about when they will get worse, or how long they will last.  This isn’t helped by books and websites that say the horrendous thing that is happening all day today “usually peaks in the ninth week” – peaks? – or “generally tapers off after three months” or “may last the entire pregnancy.”  I am reminded of the scene in “Cocoon” where Steve Guttenberg’s character is in the indoor pool with the sexy space alien and he says “If this is foreplay, I’m a dead man.”

The truth is it’s only as bad as it is today, and I keep telling myself it is “doable,” and tomorrow will take care of itself.  Besides which, I asked for this, and I’m happy I have it, even the icky parts.

Since I can’t leave the house much, I am reading, some pregnancy books.  My husband, bless his heart, went out and got himself an expectant father book.  I read a bit of it until I got to the part that says: “It’s okay.  She’s pregnant too.”  By whom I think they mean, uh, me.  I think the book is kidding at that part. 

I’ve never been a big fan of the “We’re pregnant” convention.  I understand why people say it but … come on.  “We’re having a baby” makes some sense, but only one of us is pregnant and it’s not hard to tell which one.

The book is a little on the paranoid side about the terrible dangers of things like nail polish and sliced turkey, which will inspire more debate around the house about Dangerous Things, but that’s inevitable anyway. The book also suggests that at this point in my pregnancy I should consume 45 grams of protein, right now today, (how about some turkey?) and 6-7 servings of fruits and vegetables, with only a nod to the possibility that “your partner may be experiencing some food aversions right about now.”  Ya think?  There is no way that all that food is going into me today unless we can count Reed’s Ginger Brew and Trader Joe’s Lemon Soda as fruit servings.

It’s very ironic that sugar, my life’s enemy, is now my friend in controlling nausea.  Most of the foods that I can stand to eat have some sugar, although I can’t stand very much and I think there are cookies in my cabinet going stale.

We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore.