currently, a very typical conversation:
Person Who Loves Me And Cares About Me: How are you feeling?
Me, Feeling Perpetually Like The Pukey Exhaustion Truck Hit Me: Absolutely terrible.
Loving, Caring Person: THAT'S WONDERFUL!
this gestational diabetes is a blessing in the disguise of No More White Rice, i tell you, because it forces me to eat every two to three hours whether i want to or not. despite rationally knowing the barfy feeling will recede if i just put food in my mouth, it is very hard to otherwise motivate oneself to prepare food when one feels like one has been riding on a tiny boat in very rough seas. speaking of which, my daily blood sugar numbers are apparently pleasing to the Dietician/Nurse Powers That Be, so all is well so far in that arena.
i tried to skip naptime one day and paid dearly for it that evening. after dragging around the house and then flolloping on the couch making small moaning noises, the husbanator appeared with a big giant "10" written on the iPad and said i was totally winning for Utter Patheticness. i laughed so hard i fell off the couch and decided to just go to bed.
besides, naptimes are the one time during the day that i practice loving Tummymuffin IV. not that i don't at other times, but it's way too emotionally fraught to sustain excitement, affection, or even hopefulness without it straying too close to the jagged boundaries of fear and anxiety. but when i'm drifting into that relaxed alpha state, hands cupped over my expanding pelvis, i can let go and love this small person growing inside of me. it helps that i have an image; my thoughtful ob/gyn mailed me the last ultrasound printouts (the printer was broken at the time) and sure enough, there IS a waving arm, absolutely clear. and little froglike proto-legs. it was kind of a game changer to see TM4 so...real baby-like. the joy and pleasure at seeing those images bloomed inside automatically, without any strings attached, and it was relief to know i can still feel that way about a pregnancy, even if just for a few moments.