I decided that Mike and I need a vacation. My mind needs to focus on something else. We decide to go to Vegas. What a great idea for someone in my state. Let’s go gamble and watch people drink! First though we have the US. The lady immediately finds the HB. All is well with the world. I start to feel better. She takes a ton of pictures and measurements. Baby is measuring 6 weeks. That depresses me. I swear I was 8 weeks along and 2 weeks is a big deal in this 9 month game. She gives us a ton of pictures and asks if we are excited for our first baby. We correct her with a nice “This is our 3rd”. She looks at me weird. I just want to get to Vegas.
Vegas was fun, but I was sick the entire time. This is why I was not looking forward to being pregnant. I get really sick. REALLY SICK. Now, I know lots of women get sick and I am not alone, but right now, I don’t see anyone else puking or feeling sea sick 23 out of 24 hours a day. I am pretty alone with this feeling. I see skinny 20 somethings and want to scream at them for being skinny and pretty and not pregnant. I see 50 year olds and wish for menopause. I just don’t want to be sick. I have come to terms with having 3 kids, in fact, I am getting excited about that, but my excitement is tempered by my overwhelming feeling of nausea.
I spend the rest of July sick and miserable. Mike’s 30th birthday is here and just a month or so ago I was planning a big party. We skip the party idea for a family dinner at Carrabbas. I fall asleep at 8:00 and wake up crying as I never thought I would fall asleep at 8:00 on my husband’s 30th birthday. We will have to have re-do’s next year.
Ryan turns 6 two days later and I again try to act like the fun party mom, but my stomach won’t let me. We bbq chicken and eat cake. I go to bed at 8:00. He doesn’t seem to notice that I can’t stand up without getting sick. He has a lot of toys and grandparents around.
At some point in that week, I had to tell my Dad I was pregnant. That conversation is just as akward as buying the pregnancy test was. I don’t know why. I guess it is me admitting to my dad that I have sex? Who knows. I just blurt it out to him and then tell him I have to go as I am going to be sick. He seems to deal with it pretty well. But then again, so does everyone who isn’t carrying the child.