I've been fine the last week. Just a little bloated, a little nauseated, a little tired. Then yesterday happened. It was staright up world war 3 in this house! It seems that as soon as that test said "pregnant" my husband knew that meant no sexo and completely lost his shit. His mood swings are worse than mine! I've already been yelled at twice for not having a job in the last two days, nice guy huh?, and nothing I do seems to be good enough! Grrr! Aren't I supposed to be the pregnant one here? Not that that means I deserve any special rights or privlages but, don't most men treat thier wives like Queens when they are pregnant? Shouldn't he be all "Goddess Divine, you, most splendid creature, thank you for bearing my children!" No, I get, "Don't sit on the couch all damn day, and you'd better be in a better mood when I get home."
I'm just a tad sensitive.
And he's just a tad insensitive....But this is the man I married, for better or worse.
Married life. Yea!
Then the child and I were palying last night when he accidently head butted me in the mouth, giving me a nice fat lip, which didn't hurt that bad, but made me sob uncontrollably. Which then lead to me sobbing while I gave him a bath, which lead to me sobbing in bed while we watched Thomas the Tank Engine. Somewhere inbetween the snot, tissues and tears, my pregnancy hit me hard. I remembered how ugly the last pregnancy was, how mean my husband was to me then and remembered why I said Ethan was going to be an only child.
It took nine months of research, experementing, and failed attempts, and the moment that I saw that test was positive, I was happier than I had been in a long time. But now I remember. And it's going to be a long 7.5 months.
Welcome to your pregnancy!