9 weeks

So I intended to post this on Saturday when I was actually 9 weeks but it obviously didn't happen.  In fact, it's pretty much a miracle that it's even happening now, considering my getting-things-done-o-meter is still on empty.  But, documenting this pregnancy is important to me and keeping up with my blog is, as well, so I'm getting it done.  I've got the Bachelor on for motivation.  Nothing like a bunch of bikini clad crazies crying over beach volleyball to make you feel capable.

This week was pretty much the same as the last, with the exception that Elena and I actually left the house...which was great for our cabin fever.  I still have a cough, but overall we are both feeling so much better.  I find that if I get out and do something, breaking up the day a bit, we are both much happier.   I feel like a crappy, lazy Mom otherwise and  it's terrible.  I haven't been the best playmate for her lately so it was good to get her out of the house.  Must remember that when I feel like I have no energy to do a damn thing. 

My progesterone shots are my biggest complaint this week.  I am so grateful that I'm still taking them.  It means I'm pregnant and it's sustaining this growing life inside of me.  But for some reason, this time around, they are awful.  I can hardly walk and my lower back just sort of blends into my butt because the lumps are so big.  They don't hurt going in, it's the afterburn.  Like two dead legs but in your butt.  I've been having the nurse at my OB do them when Paul is away because I just couldn't do them myself any longer.  It's a huge waste of time but it's the only choice I've got at the moment.  My last shots are on February 2nd.  Holler.

Per the usual, I count down the days until Paul comes home.  He is such a big help when he's here.  Just someone else to play with Elena, change her diaper, fold laundry, take out the trash.  He really is a doer and doesn't stop the entire time he's home.  I'm very lucky.  I cried today when he left and I felt bad, knowing it's hard enough on him to leave us as it is.  But it's hard.  I hate goodbyes.

My belly feels a little bigger this week.  I haven't gained any weight but my pooch is sticking out a little bit more.  I can't wait until it looks like a cute baby belly and not just a spare tire sort of gut thingy.  I'm living in my leggings, yoga pants, and skinny jeans, which are nice and stretchy, so hopefully they fit a while longer.

Food is still unappealing when I think of it.  I miss craving and enjoying things like guacamole and coffee.  I've survived this week on a gross combo of veggie subs from Subway with lots of vinegar or Spagettio-o's.  With meatballs.  Cue vomiting.  I know.  This is coming from someone who was a vegetarian for 11 years and still is weird with meat. I also load it with parmeasan cheese.  Not sure but I think it makes me feel like it's less Honey Boo Boo more gourmet that way.   I've also been able to start eating ice cream this week.  High fives all around. Peanut Butter Panic, to be exact.  It's reaaaaaallll good.  Peanut butter and Jelly is still my friend, too, and I'm pretty sure mainlining OJ is in my future at the rate I'm drinking it. 

I'm excited to meet my new OB this week.  Have my first "real" appointment Thursday!