So the little bugger that's growing inside me has finally decided to spill out of my pelvis and make its presence known to all those who cast gaze down on my lower abdomen. I am most decidedly pregnant. Or just really fat in a funny sort of way.
The morning sickness has finally started to subside althought the gestational fatigue is still going strong. Thank heaven for working at home and naps.
Ugh, morning sickness really sucks. Big time. The memory forgetting hormone has not yet kicked in for me so I'm not sure I ever want to go through that again. Really-Really-Sucks.
I have yet to have that etheral joyful "I'm pregnant!" moment yet. Mostly just meloncholy about the whole thing so far. Being terribly sick probably doesn't help.
It struck me the other day that I'm really, really sad about the woman that I will no longer be. The independent, risk-taking, fearless women that I am. I mourn her soon demise. I'm sure the woman I will become will be awesome - a mother, care-giver, a molder of tender minds (frightening) - but I haven't met her yet. So for now, all I can do is miss the woman that I am so familiar and comfortable with. The woman I'm so happy to be.