Week 3: The magic happens. Paranoia. Maternity pills!
Week 4: I want to eat all of the things all of the time. All of them. All of the time.
Week 5: Man, my boobs are really sore. Why does the entire world smell terrible? I need chicken wings RIGHT NOW! I guess this period will be a doozy. Heh heh...heh?
Week 6: I'm pregnant? I'm pregnant! Zzzzzzzzz
Week 7: Nausea. I can smell EVERYTHING, and it smells terrible! Onions are dead to me. And eggs, and cooking meat, and pretty much anything with more flavour than boiled chicken. I hate all food. My inner foodie rocks and cries in a dusty corner.
Week 8: My body says, "suck it up! You can hate all food if you like, but now you have to eat 8 times a day, including trips to the fridge at 3:30am. And you also need to pee every hour now, so get used to it, sucker."
Week 9: Grapes, blueberries, bananas, peanut butter and sliced apple toast, chicken nuggets, and repeat. All other food is on the hate list. Also, the time has come to build a pillow fort in my bed. Danny gets lonely, especially because his beard smells "weird" and "gross" to me and I don't want to kiss him.
Week 10: Okay, add Oreo blizzards, poutine, pulled pork sandwiches, and cereal to that "safe" food list. This pillow fort is AWESOME!
Week 11: Chicken nuggets. I want them. I want them so hard. Danny's beard is back in my good books...for now.
Week 12: Surprise! Shrimpy has a growth spurt. My pants suddenly don't do up even a little bit. My zippers all beg for mercy as I try anyway. We have a party at a friend's house (thanks, Bethany) to tell many of our near and dear about our exciting news via the magic of cookies. Then, a few days later...heartbeat!!! Let's tell everyone in the whole facebookverse RIGHT NOW. We feel like celebrities.
|I ate most of these cookies within 3 days. The baby made me do it.|
Week 13: My body says, "okay, I'll let you be kind of a normal human being again, but in return, you don't get to sleep anymore, even though you are exhausted all the time. HA! But I'm not unreasonable, so you get to eat eggs again. That's something, right? Right?" Attempted zzzzz.
And that brings me up to yesterday. Now I'm in my 14th week, which means I'll be 14 weeks along this coming Saturday. My little shrimp is now the size of a peach, according to the interwebs. The interwebs also tell me that I shouldn't be able to feel anything inside yet, but I swear I feel flutters almost every day, like the tiniest swimmer doing the backstroke around my little uterine swimming pool.
I also stole Danny's warm jogging pants today, but he doesn't know it yet. :)