So I'm dealing with a few (okay--more then a few) pregnancy-related issues right now. One of them being that when I do little tasks that normally, would be no big deal--I feel like I need to catch my breath. You would think I'm an 80 year old with emphysema. Okay, it's not that bad, and no I'm not "huffing and puffing" (out loud at least)--but yea...I feel more then slightly winded when doing minor tasks around the house.
What the heck.
Now, I realize there are reasons for this. Apparently my body has produced massive amounts more blood flow in early pregnancy, causing this shortness-of-breath phenomenon but seriously---I've got things to do and places to go. This just cannot be.
Today, while grabbing the last bag of groceries from the car (after chasing my dog around the yard who slipped out and ran 'free'...), I got this incredible bout of nausea. It completely overtook me. I walked up the stairs--and barely made it in time to the bathroom. Obviously, spewing my guts in the porcelain potty about...uhhh...5 or 6 times. [TMI? yes? I promise, it will only get worse.]
The answer is YES...I took my anti-nausea meds this morning. Obviously, my baby really wants to show me how healthy they are. "Hahaha Mom--I can beat out the Zofran. Suck on them apples." [said in a completely loving way, I'm sure of it.]
But come on!
I need a break.
Is that too much to ask?
Oh, and lets talk about my nose for a second. No, not about it's more plump shape (but thank God-I don't have a honker...could be worse), but about the smells. Oh the dreaded SMELLS.
People warn you, pregnancy magazines and websites tell you...YOU WILL SMELL EVERYTHING. But did I believe them? Did I trust that? Not really.
I learned the hard way.
Because...gahhh! The world stinks. Better yet...all those stupid smelly things that people THINK make the world smell better really throw my stomach into World War 3 making swallowing my lunch an enormous task. Scented candles, glade plug-ins, febreeze, ohhhhh my GOSH someone stop me now. Just typing it makes my tummy rumble in fear.
So please, lay off on the perfume. For the sake of all pregnant women that could encounter you. Or, you might end up with puke on your shoes.
Oh, and if you happen to encounter little old me gasping for breath while doing something as simple as tying my shoes--don't laugh. Or I may just use your purse as a barf bag.