Sunday, March 17, 2013

Blog Takeover: Pregnancy (and over nine weeks!!!!!)

This week was the worst and the best (in the sickness sense) so far. The beginning of the week was TERRIBLE- throwing up (but only once each day), soooo nauseous, so tired, etc. By the end of the week though, I was progressively getting better. Friday, I didn't throw up at all, and then SATURDAY I felt good enough to go to the mall. It was awesome. I have been craving my favorite breakfast (waffles, crepes, or french toast with berries and whipping cream). I woke up Saturday morning to the LOUDEST sound. Mornings are still the hardest. I wake up with an empty stomach, feeling nauseous, and know that I will have to walk into the kitchen (barf) and choke down something while forcing myself not to puke. So I was a little frustrated when I woke up Saturday morning to an electric saw being used in our kitchen. That's what it sounded like. It was SO LOUD. I whipped off the covers and walked downstairs in my underwear, only to find McKay using a hand-mixer in a glass bowl, making whipping cream for my breakfast of crepes and berries.
I felt so stupid, but still was so angry, so I said "Whattt are you doing?!?! That is so loud!"It was like one of those things that was already going to come out of my mouth, due to the frustrated pressure (or something like that). Then McKay said, "I'm sorry." AREN'T I SO MEAN?!
So then I went upstairs and got myself together (peed, put in contacts, stopped being insane and rude) and went downstairs with a better attiture. I told McKay thank you and that it was just what I had been craving and that I loved them. Then I sat in my brown chair and loved them and tried not to puke. And I didn't.
Then I was craving french fries from Red Robin, so we went there for lunch and I ate a ton of them with Smokey Blue sauce.
Today, I feel even better. I even ate a tiny sliver of pork tonight at dinner, but that's all I could stand.

I keep feeling like the baby is a girl. I am not going to be scared of saying that and "jinxing it." I don't believe in that stuff. I believe that Heavenly Father will send us the next baby who is meant to be ours. But I feel like that baby is a girl. This weekend while we were shopping, I looked a little bit at baby girl clothes. But I had a dream the other night about holding a newborn baby boy and I felt that feeling- of holding my newborn baby. Of course I remember, but I don't remember what it really felt like. But in the dream, it felt like it. I just can't wait to have a little newborn to lay against my chest, and a tiny face to kiss and tiny fingers to hold mine. This time, I feel so much more confident as a mom. I'm not as worried about knowing what to do. I'm not worried I will have to ask a ton of questions and need help (but I will). And I'm not worried about what people think of me as a mom and how I am doing taking care of my little baby. That's the biggest thing- and that's what I'm the most excited about not worrying about!

I keep thinking about when the spirit enters the body of the baby. I don't think there has been anything revealed on exactly when- some of the brethren have spoken about when they feel it happens.
The other night, I was sitting in our bedroom and I really thought that the spirit must have entered the baby's body by now- because I feel so close to Heavenly Father. It just doesn't feel like there's body parts developing inside me-something of science. There is a baby- a son or daughter of God. Plus, I have not been reading my scriptures. How is that for a confession? But I still feel so close to Heavenly Father. But could that be?
Something  I have been thinking about..

We still don't get to hear (or see) the heartbeat until the 26th!! I will be almost 11 weeks. It's so hard to wait this long. Tonight, McKay bumped my stomach with his leg or arm or something and I was automatically worried. Can we just check on this baby already?

This week I plan to:
make an actual grocery list for McKay
drink more water & take prenatals every day
read camera manual
and not get more sick.

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