A post in two parts

Part One

I’m sitting on the beach on a gorgeous September Sunday, trying not to worry about the fact that my breasts are smaller and almost completely not sensitive today. Of course I have googled “breast size and tenderness fluctuation in early pregnancy” and can find nothing but reassurance that this is normal, but I am primed to think of myself as abnormal. I have faith and hope and am not obsessing (really!), but breast enlargement and sensitivity are my favorite symptoms, because they are (usually) constant and very easy to check. I have no shame—if the impulse strikes me, I give them a pat or a stroke no matter where I am, feel the tingle, and receive a rush of endorphins that I imagine is akin to what a drug addict feels when they take “just one more hit” or whatever.

But enough about my breasts. Who cares. Because yesterday I felt very nauseous in the car on the way from LI to Brooklyn, so nauseous I thought I might throw up out the window. And my dress was so tight and uncomfortable that I had to unzip it down the front while driving, I’m sure to the delight of the semi-truck drivers who could easily see me. Once we arrived in Brooklyn, I felt better after going to the bathroom, but after eating lunch, I felt sick and could not breathe properly. I was in my old neighborhood, and I found myself inside the Atlantic Terminal mall. I was going to go to a regular department store, but then I realized, having very limited funds, that I should buy clothes that I can grow into—and besides, I am so distended from bloat and constipation right now that I look not 6 weeks but about 17 weeks pregnant if I let my stomach just hang out where it wants to. It’s craaaazy looking. Maybe it is a little stretched out from five previous pregnancies? Whatever the case: holy shit does it get huge.

So I found myself in the maternity clothes store.Yes, the same one I wrote about here! The saleswoman asked: “Can I help you?” And I said, “I just have to get out of this dress, like, now.” She laughed. I found a roomy dress that doesn’t scream “maternity,” that looks fine now but could also accommodate a bump in the future, put it on, bought it, and relief descended. But then I drank a smoothie and and gagged-dry-heaved behind someone’s car. So there, breast tenderness!

The nausea is kind of awesome. It’s just enough to remind me that hCG is doing it’s thing, and little star is growing. The queasiness doesn’t last long, and though I will occasionally gag and dry heave, I don’t throw up, and then it’s over. A reassurance sesh. Interestingly, while looking at a recipe magazine this morning, certain photos of perfectly yummy food made me scrunch up my nose: “Ohgodno-no-no, I can’t eat that,” I said, as if I were looking at pictures of roadkill, vermin. Any image of food with bright reds, greens, yellows in it, however, looked amazing, like I was looking at the pictures after having taken LSD.

So anyway, in Brooklyn, we met the three-year-old version of a baby we played with maybe a year and a half ago, and were stunned. He was a full-blown person with a HUGE personality, an inclination toward the dramatic, and the vocabulary of a nine year old.

Me: Oh, is that a toy F train? Do you ride the F train a lot?

Him [nodding]: On occasion.

Him, at dinner, upon seeing his mother sit on the other side of the table: Mama, come sit here, beside me, I want to keep my eye on you!

His boy-ness was pure boy-ness. All he wanted to do was kill things. I played a game with him during which the entire objective for him was to burn, maim, crash into, or explode whatever toy was in my hand. If he did not get to kill me within about ten seconds, he became very upset.

The ego-centricity and delights of a three-year-old can be so hilarious. I loved how, as all of the adults were talking about something intensely, he interrupted us and declared in a bellowing voice, grinning hugely: “This ice cream is cold because it was in the FREEZER!!!” This fact was so enormous to him that it made me totally forget the stupid New Yorker article we were all droning on about. Yes, my GOD, isn’t it amazing how cold ice cream is? And that the freezer made it that way? Ahhhhh!

When his mama turned on the tunes, he danced like a raver/break dancer and had a repertoire of intense arm movements with corresponding facial expressions.

Wow. Just: wow.

Hanging out with him led DH and I to talk, this morning, about what it would be like to raise a boy. And then on to talk of: How will we discipline? How will we set boundaries? And the question that made us laugh nervously: Will you and I still get to be babies with each other once we have a baby?

And then I felt my perfectly normal breasts, cried, and got over it.

Part Two

Now it is late, and I am uber-exhausted after a day of lying on the beach reading—slavery! At a certain point, DH was sitting on the blanket and I tackled him from behind, bear-hugging him–and I felt a sudden pain in my chest, at nipple-level.

“Boobs!” I cried out. A woman passing by gave me a quizzical look, shook her head, moved on.

Yes, my breasts started hurting again. Also, I devoured my lunch like a cavewoman, in bliss that seemed to exceed the occasion, but now I can’t stand the thought of dinner—fruit will do. When we went grocery shopping, I found myself having disgusted reactions to the items DH was choosing to put in the cart—shrimp, chicken, pork tenderloin. The only things that looked edible were the bright green greens and the wonderfully brightly colored fruits. I think little star might be a vegetarian!

And so ends this lovely weekend. Thank you, baybina (or baybino) for letting me know, loud and clear, that you are there. Just in time for Beta #3 tomorrow morning.

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3 Comments

  1. Early pregnancy is so weird. Although I never gagged or threw up, and my nausea was very minimal, I remember socking my husband once when he came up behind me for a hug. My breasts were so tender! Even the water in the shower would hurt! But the sensation faded over time, and it did fluctuate day to day, like yours is doing. Now they’re huge (ok, not huge- from B to C, but huge for me!), but I can once again sleep without a tight shirt for support.

    Fatigue was my most prominent symptom. From weeks 5 to 11, I left work every day around 3 pm and slept for an hour and a half. On weekends, more like two and a half hours. And then I still felt like a zombie. But now, at 16 weeks, I feel fabulous. No nausea, no food aversions, and though I like to sleep 8.5 hours a night, I am full of energy all day long.

    I am sure your 3rd beta will be great. It’s so exciting that you’re preggers! I flew though Atlanta last night on my way home from somewhere else, and I patted my belly and told the baby that this is where he or she was conceived :)

    Reply
  2. This is so very excited, and nerve wracking for sure. Thank you for the updates!!! Fingers, arms, legs, toes crossed for you. Can’t wait to hear the news. Thinking of you, xoxo

    Reply

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