Morning Sickness

By now, I have posted about being pregnant. I'm sure I posted about how thrilled I am, what a surprise, oh what a blessing, blah, blah, blah crap.

It is 8:20 a.m. on Wednesday, March 3rd, you see, and I haven't actually written that post yet. Nor am I going to publish this post for at least another month. But in order to be true to you, my dear friends, I feel I need to write this post now. Surely (oh, God, PLEASE, please for all your goodness, PLEASE) I won't feel the same way in a month, and therefore won't do this post justice, just thinking back on how I feel today.

Because I feel like shit.

It is by far the most over-used statement in these early weeks of pregnancy, but I'll say it again anyway: morning sickness is in no way confined to the morning. It is all day, feeling like you're going to barf, being nauseated by the mere mention of your previously favorite foods. Feeling hung-over, that's what it's like. Only you didn't have fun last night -- you crawled into bed at 9:00 p.m. and were drooling a waterfall before 9:01. When I can get up the nerve to eat, all I want are fried, salty foods. Like french fries or potato chips. Really, really crispy french fries.

This, coming from someone who has been primal for a year. I haven't had as many complex carbohydrates in the past year combined as I have eaten in the past three days. Monday and Tuesday for lunch,  I ate two snack bags of Baked Lays. Then french fries for dinner.

This morning, on the way to work, I stopped at the grocery store and bought a box of Saltines. I am almost through one entire sleeve -- of course, with the crackers on my desk, with a napkin on top to hide the evidence. I also bought a BIG bag of Baked Lays, and I expect that to be my lunch.

And talk about work. You try to concentrate on meetings when all you can think about is how awful you feel. How that person next to you really doesn't need to wear that much cologne. How you'd arm wrestle for that cup of coffee across the table from you, but, no, you can't have it.

Caffeine and alcohol have been interesting in these short few weeks. So far the alcohol thing hasn't bothered me -- makes sense, really. When you wake up hung over, do you want to reach for a glass of wine?

But, goodness, what I wouldn't do for a Diet Coke. A tall, cold, Diet Coke.

Instead, I'll stick to my decaffeinated, non-herbal, non-sweetened tea, thank you very much. Can't you just see me glowing?

Forget working out, at least right now. I've walked a few mornings, and I'm trying to keep up doing my squat routine once a week, and work my biceps and back muscles at least once a week. But a walk on the treadmill at 3.2 speed for 2 miles isn't going to burn off all these damn french fries. Bye-bye, too, my days of chin ups and pull ups.

So, yes, I am complaining. This nausea will go away, and the happiness will return, and I won't even remember these days when I feel the baby kick for the first time. Which is why I'm archiving this post today, because I do want you, my dear friends, to know that this sucks.