For over two weeks I have held it in, close to my heart. Our little secret. I shared it only with those I felt I might need were something to go wrong, or those I was just too excited to tell. I waited it out, not wanting the disappointment again of losing something.
I am baring it all once again. Things look good. The symptoms I never got last time, because it all ended so early are here and in full force. Nothing smells appetizing. Nothing tastes good. I can barely eat. I gag all day long. I want to sleep all day long. Its wonderful and terrible at the same time.
I force myself to eat, nibbling at the moment on cold pinto beans. Knowing that eating makes the queasiness go away, if only for a short while. I allow myself to throw up, because its easier than trying (unsuccessfully) not to. I let myself sleep, knowing that Rhayn will take care of Gwennie and that Will will feed then dinner when he gets home at night.
I am thankful for this, and know it is short lived. In 6 or so weeks this nausea will taper off. In the end, in a mere 34ish weeks time, we will welcome a new member into our family. The girls are excited. Gwennie seems a little nervous about it. She asks me about the baby and loves looking at pictures of the growing embryo in "A Child is Born" and tells me and everyone else that the reason I feel so bad is because of the baby.
Its beautiful. Its exciting. Its terrifying.
I had an ultrasound on Monday and measured 6 weeks. "Clover" (my nickname for the baby that will be born around St. Patrick's Day although I have considered "Bunny" because he/she will be born in the year of the rabbit) had a tiny little heartbeat, even though there was really only a dot to see.