Cat's out of the bag. I'm with baby. Bun in the oven. All that. I am not, remarkably, handling this one well. I know I am not a tough woman. I cry when Eli gets hurt, I tear up at stupid movies, I voted for Nader once, but this whole pregnancy dealy has brought out a level of wimpiness I did not know I possessed.
Eli was a hard pregnancy. I remember being sick, I remember certain instances of close calls and feeling icky. But I do NOT remember it being this bad. In one week I have lost 7 pounds and counting. I've already had to go get an IV once and will probably have to go again soon. Every day is a massive challenge. I can't get out of bed, usually puke once or twice when I do, and have a hard time even getting off the couch when I finally make it into the living room.
All this would suck, but what I feel the worst about is how much I feel I am not giving to Eli right now. He's such an independent little guy that I can lay around and he pretty much does his own thing. I feel sometimes that the only time I interact with him is when he does something nefarious. I need to figure out a way to really interact with Eli while I'm down and out. It's hard because he isn't really a lap sitter or a cuddler. Mostly we watch Sesame Street and he plays around the house by himself.
Oh well. I guess three or four months of a dead beat mommy can't scar him for life, can it?