You! Glorious you. Today marks 8 weeks of pregnancy with you, numero dos.
We were surprised to be pregnant so quickly after we decided to try to conceive again. It took us several cycles before Charlie got cooking, but I'm not complaining. That waiting game is rotten and we are happy you're on your way.
With my last pregnancy, I knew I was pregnant at a little over five weeks because of the incessant vomiting that suddenly hijacked my life. This time around, I took a pregnancy test after two weeks of knowing I must be pregnant because I missed my period, but otherwise I felt totally normal.
The first major pregnancy symptom has been absolute exhaustion. I wake up so tired every single day, even after eight or ten hours of sleep. And I just want to nap all day.
The barfing did catch up to me. Why, just this morning I held your brother on my knee while I sat on the edge of the tub and introduced the toilet to my breakfast. Ah, yes, this pregnancy is a family affair, for sure.
Your dad's not one who can really handle all the retching noises, so I'm usually on my own in the bathroom, but he's a champ after a major puke-fest, showering me with ginger ale and saltines. He likes to get me settled on the couch for my hours of resting/trying not to barf up everything single thing I put in my body. He also does the dishes when the sink gets full and changes Charlie's diapers whenever he is home because those are my biggest nausea triggers. Your pop's a good guy, as you will someday learn.
Your brother has no idea what's coming, and the poor little prince might be in for a rude awakening. He doesn't get "baby" yet, but maybe in another seven months, he'll figure it out.
We love you, kiddo. See you in June.