If you happened to catch the post I wrote earlier this morning (what, you didn’t already read it? You mean not EVERYONE has the internet on a constant-drip IV like I do?), you know by now that I’m pregnant (with NUMBER FOUR)!

Yep. W00T, and hooray, and also lots of napping so far.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy about this new little one - I sit and reminisce about my other pregnancies (or lie down and reminisce, which is far more often), and smile and occasionally tear up at the warm fuzzy memories, and then demand ask for several pieces of toast because I JUST NOW AM STARVING, OMG - but I just don’t have much energy to do anything right now other than try not to sleep all day, and try not to throw up when I’m awake.

And honestly, I don’t think I ever WILL throw up. That’s not how I do pregnant. I just get queasy, all the time, everywhere. Like motion sickness and vertigo and that feeling you get when you can tell that your body is about to launch into full-on influenza mode and within six hours or so you’ll be hugging the toilet and begging for mercy, all rolled into one too-warm, uncomfortable, hungry pregnant package; except that I never have the satisfaction of throwing up.

Those of you poor women who DID, in fact, throw up at every turn during your pregnancy, I don’t envy you, I just keep thinking I might feel better if the nausea ever got me anywhere. I suppose I should shut up now so karma doesn’t play a trick on me.

I was deeply sick for about a week up until today, so you’ll pardon me while I get my brain re-sorted. And then I can start writing up weekly so-now-I’m-this-many-weeks-pregnant posts here, and we can all commiserate and sniffle together. It’ll be like a weekly group hug. MWAH!

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