Yes, Virginia, there really are zits…

Time for another update! I know, I know, it’s been soooo long.

The baby is now 12 1/2 weeks, and the first trimester is almost over! Woot woot! One might think not much could possibly happen in a week’s time, but, alas, when pregnant, something new happens every day! I can’t keep up! As much as I beg and plead them, the boobs won’t let up. I’m adorning cantelopes! Now my skin has decided to go on strike. Zits are beginning to draw maps on my face. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think I should play connect-the-dots. I would include a picture to demonstrate, but a close-up pimple shot isn’t the most pleasant to look at.

I had a pregnancy scare recently. For the past couple of days I’ve been experiencing random, sharp pains in my lower abdomen. After this ocurred for a few days, I decided to look it up in our pregnancy book and online. The majority of what I found made it sound like I could possibly have had or was having a miscarriage. Naturally, I did the first thing any normal woman would do, I freaked out and cried; always seems like the best immediate remedy. I called the Naval Hospital this morning and spoke with a nurse in the OB-GYN department. (You can’t speak directly to your midwife unless it’s an extreme emergency.) Through the conversation, I found out that the pain I’m experiencing is called Round Ligament Pain. It’s caused by the hips expanding to make room for the growing uterus. Oh come on, as if my hips aren’t big enough! Geez, my belly button is stretching horizontally and starting to look like an extra set of thin lips. Thankfully the pain can be eased by sleeping on my left side or propping up my right side when lying on my back. Apparently sleeping on the right side is a no-no, and of course, that’s the side I usually sleep on. Somehow I always end up doing the no-nos before I even know they exist! *sigh*

Along with changing the way I sleep, I have to drink more water. A pregnant woman is required to drink a gallon of water a day, but those who work out are required to drink almost double that. Oh good, let’s just cut my 30-minute potty frequencies to 15-minute ones. Maybe if I just strap a toilet to my butt everywhere I go, I’d save myself some time.

In the last note I said that the gas problem had let up. The baby either read my thoughts or is hiding some x-ray vision goggles, because it’s back and worse than ever before. Evan should be glad he’s not home much these days. Between me and the dog, the apartment smells like a muenster cheese explosion. If the gas this baby is giving me is any indication of what it’ll produce, I’m dubbing Evan the official poopy diaper changer.

Other than zits, gas, boobs, and everything else, I have nothing more to say. Below are updated pictures of my baby pooch (and no, they are not bloating pictures):

 

 

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