We officially made it to week 15 on Saturday. To celebrate, I am going to order Thai curry from every Thai restaurant in town until I find the one that will make me stop craving Thai curry. Once that’s settled, we’ll move on to Indian. Mind you, Catch won’t eat Indian or Thai, so this will be a lonesome endeavor.
I’ve had lots of cravings. If you talk about food I will probably want to eat that food, but those cravings are generally fleeting. The curry thing is the only craving that has been ongoing. In fact, I made it a condition* of shopping with my mother on Saturday that we could shop as long as we could have Indian for dinner.
*It took me 10 minutes, a trip down the hall to ask a coworker, and a thesaurus to help me think of the word “condition” just now. I walked into my friend’s office and said, “In a contract, what do you call it when one party agrees to do something as long as the other party agrees to do something else?” She looked at me like I was crazy. This baby is making me stupid.
Anyway, 15 weeks. Things are going reasonably well. I think. Maybe. It’s hard to say since I haven’t seen or heard the baby in 3 weeks. After so many weekly ultrasounds, this information void is painful. I’m hoping I’ll at least get to hear a Doppler heartbeat when I meet with a midwife for a physical exam on February 9th. I wish I could just email my doctor and tell her I’m neurotic and need reassurance, but this woman is going to be manhandling my vagina in the future and I really want to stay on her good side.
Speaking of sides, it doesn’t matter what side of me you’re looking at, I still don’t look pregnant. Just fat. Which is fine, except that it does nothing to reassure me that I AM pregnant. The only thing it reassures me of is that I made the right decision having turkey kale soup for lunch today rather than pursuing takeout curry. I can absolutely say that my belly is making it slightly difficult to reach forward for my water when I’m sitting on the couch. It feels weird that I’m happy about that.
The other day, I asked Catch if she ever has those “holy shit, we’re having a baby” moments that I’ve been having often. Her response? “No. I am just totally excited that we’re having a baby.” One of many reasons why I love her.
Finally, WHERE THE HELL DID THESE BOOBS COME FROM? Dear dog. They’re still sore as hell and we’ve now added shooting pains and itchiness to the mix. It just seems so unfair. Hey universe—if you’re going to give me big boobs, at least make it so I can have some fun with them!