Just When We Thought We Were All Safe

The Bench home is lit up.
My husband's choice of LED lights outlining our roofline probably allow the astronauts in the International Space Station to see us from their window, as they float about eating M&Ms.
Our Christmas Tree is up, decorated, and on the automatic timer as well, thanks in large part to J, my brother Ryan, and my mom's ever-flowing Christmas spirit.
Still, aside from the flurry of activity brought on by Thanksgiving, its preparations, and the weekend stay from my family, our home has actually remained somewhat quiet.
Note the windows and doors shut, no phone calls, texts, tweets, or {gasp} blog posts.
We are not being Scrooges, nor are we hibernating from the almost surprising 80-degree holiday weather {we love you, Southern California!}.
A peek into our lives these days reveals a very boring story: my husband at his usual post -- in our bedroom on his lounge chair, in front of our TV that has been turned sideways to face him, large headphones and microphone glued to his head as if he is an air traffic controller, Playstation 3 controller in hand, barking commands like "Charge on Bravo" -- and me, in bed, alternating between frustratingly pursuing the 3 star score to every level of Angry Birds Rio, reading Southern Living magazine and Bon Appetit magazine, or losing myself in the craft nirvana of Pinterest.
Mundane and domestic as it sounds and as far cry from our old partying lives as it may be, this is bliss to us. 
We have been laying low, silently thanking the hormone gods for keeping me actually eating, virtually not sick, despite being significantly tired. Of course, we only had the last pregnancy to compare this too, and having that, we should have known better.

The past two and a half weeks since confirming the pregnancy had been without event. Just like the last time, I got queasy about an hour or two after meals, during which time I just routinely put on my Sea Bands and that would do the trick. I ate happily and heartily, craving root beer, cheese bagels, and spaghetti carbonara, which I would make from scratch. {And no, I didn't crave them all at the same time.} We foolishly thought that after these smooth past couple of weeks, we were home free. As always, we were proven wrong: we foolishly thought WRONG.

I am officially 7 weeks pregnant today, and my hormones did not waste any time. After church this morning, I began to feel queasy in the car. We got home, I ate a ham and cheese croissant from my favorite donut place, and within 15 minutes, I was so nauseous that I couldn't even lift my head from the couch. I felt so guilty as my mom and brother got ready to go home and I didn't even get to spend the last few minutes of their stay here with them because I had fallen asleep on the couch. After they left, I missed them immediately, and wished that my stomach would have settled itself at least in time to be able to spend some more precious time with them. 

J and I went upstairs, where he assumed his position in front of the TV with video game controller in hand, and I fell asleep again, this time for an hour and a half or so. I woke up lethargic, queasy, and just like last time, with no appetite. I was so sick that I didn't even want to go to the store to get some more Parmaggiano cheese to use for my carbonara sauce, and ended up having a shameless Nutella and jelly sandwich for dinner instead.

On top of all this, I have carelessly allowed my hormones to get the best of me. My poor husband, being the one who is constantly with me, has sadly become the most regular victim of my behavior. With my constant exhaustion, everything seems to be twice as much effort, and going up and down the stairs just to ask him something has been twice as frustrating. He can't hear me through those headphones, I get angry, and unleash on him. Inexcusable, I know, and I have given my share of apologies to him. 

Yes, I know I sound whiny, but outside of those {and really, there is so much more outside of it}, our home has been filled with excitement, a little anxiety, and joy. On Friday, we will have the baby's first ultrasound, and God-willing, we will get to hear his / her heartbeat. 

At this time, we still have no real guesses as to the baby's gender. I've shared with some that I have a feeling the baby's a boy, but I think I am just trying to prepare myself for that news. I cannot hide from God what is in my heart, and He knows that deep down, J and I would prefer a girl, but if His plan is to give us a boy, we would welcome our son into a world with so much love and wanting. Boy or girl, we want a baby. We want to share our overflowing love for each other with a child of our own... and hopefully, come July 16th, we will have a chance to do that.


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