It is best to act with confidence, no matter how little right you have to it.


It is best to act with confidence, no matter how little right you have to it. -Lillian Hellman

My first earnest attempt at a self-portrait. I don’t think it looks very much like me, but it was a worthwhile process. I need to work on face shapes and proportion, and noses. Noses are my least favorite part of the face (drawing it, anyways). I don’t know why I’ve waited so long to draw my own face. Insecurity? No; maybe I’m so used to my own face that it doesn’t seem like an interesting subject.

The cloud of queasiness is beginning to lift. Last week I went jogging for the first time–a solid 35 minutes, although I walked 15 minutes of that time. I want to do it again this week, and maybe try some yoga. If pregnancy has taught me anything is that the body’s needs will not be ignored.

I am getting ambitious again–possibly too ambitious, but I expect that the fetus will pound her (tiny) foot on the brakes if need be. I bought a bagful of fresh new pencils and notebooks but dropped out of one of the art classes I’d originally planned to take, so that leaves just the one. I have two writing projects I’d like to finish before the end of the year. There is time, I think. As long as I don’t spend my remaining hours clicking through mommy blogs, glassy-eyed and dead to the world.


The new normal

Nearly 10 weeks along now and I am mostly blorft, almost all the time. Since week 6 I’d been manic about food, having to eat every hour, even before bed, or risk waves of nausea. If I ate too little, I was punished. If I ate too much, I was punished. To be honest it took all the fun out of food and eating for me, although finding something that I actually wanted to eat was exciting.

No no’s? Chicken (in all its forms), salads, most vegetables. Other meat I can eat in limited amounts before disgust overwhelms me, and I have been able to eat pureed vegetables (saag!) and meat-that-doesn’t-look-like-meat (sausage, ground meat).

Mostly, though, I can only get down carbohydrates and protein shakes. And sour things, in abundance–pickles, lemonade, sour hard candies, sour gummies. I can eat healthy carbs like oatmeal, but they make me gassy in the extreme. Actually, everything makes me gassy. I think I woke myself up last night tooting in my sleep.

However: this morning, I feel good. I wasn’t ravenous when I woke up, and have been okay with a protein shake and an apple so far. This weekend was good, too; I haven’t been stuffing my face at every opportunity.

It’s been letting up these past few days but I know better than to assume that I’m out of the woods–yet. Give it three more weeks and I’ll trust the occasional bursts of normality a tad bit more.

For a few weeks I felt resentful of all these changes and was generally disgruntled about the whole affair. It felt like my body wasn’t my own anymore, that it had been taken over by some alien being that was intent on inflicting a world of mild discomfort on me. Its master plan was subtle; nothing so obvious as endless vomiting, but every mild annoyance on the books: rhinitis of pregnancy, gassiness, food aversion, itchy skin rash, fatigue, light heartburn, constant mild queasiness. Death by duck nibbles.

I’m more reconciled to this state of affairs today. I know that this isn’t forever. Every day is different.