Week 7 1/2 Update
Just a whole number away from being Felliniesque.
How appropriate.
Sorry I haven't been around. ("Hi, my name is Arabella, and I like burning my bridges and letting my site stats fend for themselves!") This week has been exceptionally difficult. The nausea has set in full-blast. Every waking hour is consumed by thoughts of food, and what will satisfy my intense starvation without making me sick. It's a little like being a Hollywood starlet, but with the looming reality of stretch marks despite all the puking.
Here are just a few of the things that I have puked up: a vanilla milkshake; graham crackers; a bowl of Rice Krispies.
Here are some of the few things that have stayed down: spicy pizza; a pickle; half an Italian hero. Each of these was consumed within a half an hour of puking up something bland.
The past few years, I've had a great many adjustments in my life. I finished college, started law school, finished law school, started working, got engaged, got married, moved, and changed job situations. I hadn't really thought about it until recently, but, in the back of my mind, I've sort of prided myself on figuring out how to make each adjustment and then doing it. It's been a little trial and error, but I've genuinely enjoyed each challenge.
But this pregnancy is kicking my ass. I have no idea what I'm doing, or how to make myself feel better. I have no idea whether I'm moving towards self-improvement, or whether I'm just treading water. My mother recently said to me, "Arabella, some times in life are just meant to be lived through." I think she's absolutely right, and that this is one of those times.
And, in retrospect, I am learning, little by little. Ty and I have mastered the art of performing my injections with a minimum of pain and bruising. My day no longer revolves around the terror of the shot. I'm learning that my body knows exactly what I need to eat, and when, and that bland food isn't necessarily what's best for me. And I'm learning that, sometimes, pushy people just need to wait. The world won't end if twenty-four hours elapse. It might even be good for them.
I've also learned that, if you really talk to other women, even those with whom you've never been particularly close, they'll often open up about their own less-than-glamorous body experiences, be they during pregnancy or some other time. One of the reasons that blogging first appealed to me was that I've often thought that what women (and men!) have to go through with their bodies is absurd. Now I know that I'm right, that absurdity abounds, and that it abounds for everyone.
So, thanks for reading, for putting up with me, and my absences, and my 'gina. And now my stomach. I guarantee, there'll be lots more unsavory body talk coming up in the next few months, so stay tuned!
P.S. If you haven't already, please head over to Soul Gardening to congratulate my friend and fellow long-time-conception-attempter Tammie on her own good news!
How appropriate.
Sorry I haven't been around. ("Hi, my name is Arabella, and I like burning my bridges and letting my site stats fend for themselves!") This week has been exceptionally difficult. The nausea has set in full-blast. Every waking hour is consumed by thoughts of food, and what will satisfy my intense starvation without making me sick. It's a little like being a Hollywood starlet, but with the looming reality of stretch marks despite all the puking.
Here are just a few of the things that I have puked up: a vanilla milkshake; graham crackers; a bowl of Rice Krispies.
Here are some of the few things that have stayed down: spicy pizza; a pickle; half an Italian hero. Each of these was consumed within a half an hour of puking up something bland.
The past few years, I've had a great many adjustments in my life. I finished college, started law school, finished law school, started working, got engaged, got married, moved, and changed job situations. I hadn't really thought about it until recently, but, in the back of my mind, I've sort of prided myself on figuring out how to make each adjustment and then doing it. It's been a little trial and error, but I've genuinely enjoyed each challenge.
But this pregnancy is kicking my ass. I have no idea what I'm doing, or how to make myself feel better. I have no idea whether I'm moving towards self-improvement, or whether I'm just treading water. My mother recently said to me, "Arabella, some times in life are just meant to be lived through." I think she's absolutely right, and that this is one of those times.
And, in retrospect, I am learning, little by little. Ty and I have mastered the art of performing my injections with a minimum of pain and bruising. My day no longer revolves around the terror of the shot. I'm learning that my body knows exactly what I need to eat, and when, and that bland food isn't necessarily what's best for me. And I'm learning that, sometimes, pushy people just need to wait. The world won't end if twenty-four hours elapse. It might even be good for them.
I've also learned that, if you really talk to other women, even those with whom you've never been particularly close, they'll often open up about their own less-than-glamorous body experiences, be they during pregnancy or some other time. One of the reasons that blogging first appealed to me was that I've often thought that what women (and men!) have to go through with their bodies is absurd. Now I know that I'm right, that absurdity abounds, and that it abounds for everyone.
So, thanks for reading, for putting up with me, and my absences, and my 'gina. And now my stomach. I guarantee, there'll be lots more unsavory body talk coming up in the next few months, so stay tuned!
P.S. If you haven't already, please head over to Soul Gardening to congratulate my friend and fellow long-time-conception-attempter Tammie on her own good news!
Copyright 2005-2010 by Arabella and Trattoria Breve. All rights reserved. 7:30 PM
10 Comments:
And Palmer's Cocoa Butter Creme for your tummy. Start now so that, as you expand, the skin will be more elastic. I pooh-poohed the whole thing about daily moisturiizing of the belly region and now I am very, very sorry. So sorry. Sure, I lost the weight, but in direct sunlight my skin looks as though angry weasels have clawed me unmercifully.
I've been thinking of you. I sympathize. I was always told the sicker the mom, the healthier the baby. Babies.
Getting pregnant is like joining the weirdest kind of sorority. You may find yourself having the strangest conversations about topics you would have never thought of discussing before.
If I may give a small piece of advice, take what everyone tells you with a grain of salt. Pregnancy, labor and delivery is different for every woman, and for every baby they have. Eat what sounds good, your body will tell you what it needs.
I'm just happy to hear from you again, and see that you're doing OK. Because you really are, you know. Take care.
Hang in there Arabella. You have twice the hormones as the rest of us so that's bound to wreak havoc. I'm thinking about you every day and sending calming thoughts your way. It's a total learning experience. Just take it a day at a time.
You're Italian, Arabella--your body is NOT going to go for graham crackers and vanilla milkshakes. There's a reason the pizza, pickles, and Italian hero stayed down. It's your DNA talkin'. The Bella Tortellinis are already discovering their culinary heritage.
Sorry you are feeling so crappy! Here's hoping you are able to keep a milkshake down soon. At least when you throw those up, it's nice and cold and soothing. LOL. Do NOT, repeat NOT, eat popcorn. That coming up is like sand paper. LOL.
There you are! Glad to hear you're OK... Well, sort of? I hear it gets easier to eat after the first month. That's probably not helping. How about- if I lived near you I would cook a thousand things and hope one of them stuck.
MUAH
I was/am yak-sick with both of my kiddos. It's not fun and I can imagine the two-for-one is even worse.
I'm ready for my stomach to have its space back...but I'm so glad yours is growing!
Do - and eat - what feels right to you. No pregnancy is the same, even in the same woman... so your own instincts are as good an authority as any other, you might as well trust them.
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