As of today, I'm about 12.5 weeks pregnant (yes, I count every day). I'm due December 7. Odds are about 50/50 that I give birth on December 8 if Alabama gets to play in the SEC Championship that day. Football's been known to stress me out just a little bit.
|Not much of a bump yet, but windblown hair is in full effect|
I've avoided full-blown nausea, thankfully, but I am extremely sensitive to smell. It's just bad luck that my office is right next to the kitchen at work. There have been many days that I've had to close my door to avoid smelling someone's lunch. Also, who knew the women in my office wore so much perfume? Ick. Gag. Yuck.
The weirdest food aversion I've had has been to romaine lettuce. Ugh. Can't go anywhere near it. Milk, on the other hand? Drinking about a gallon a week. My sister-in-law in Atlanta told me that she thought I might be pregnant when I could stop thinking about milk and cookies when we were in Atlanta.
Other stuff? Wicked bloating, which was the real reason my dress was so tight a couple of weeks ago. Incidentally, I had the super drunk date of one of J's co-workers tell me that night that being pregnant meant I was just going to get "fatter and fatter and fatter." I wanted to slap the stew out of her. It's pounds with a purpose, chick. Plus, there are so many who would do anything to get "fatter and fatter," including me for the last two years. So, yeah.
Did I mention my hormones are little bit out of control?
Of course, this baby isn't all about me. I've got my other half to think about too and it's been pretty interesting to see how he's reacted to everything.
I've read a quarter of one pregnancy book. He's read three baby books already and is currently quizzing me on my birth plan. (For the record, it's to get the baby out at the appropriate time). He claims to have gained three pounds since I got pregnant. Last week, I caught him eating a dinner of brown rice, brown sauce, sour cream, rotisserie chicken, olives and cheddar cheese.
Which one of us is pregnant again?