Life has slowed to an utter standstill around here with the onset of the appallingly misnamed “morning sickness” that lasts from the time I wake up until I drop back in bed. George has been telling me for several pregnancies that I should write a book called “101 Things You Don’t Want to Throw Up and Why” or something along those lines. Actually, now I’m sort of thinking about it. None of my non-pregnant friends really want to know what pizza tastes like on the flip side, but there must be some other pregnant women out there who would find barf humor funny, right? Plus, hey! The research is already done.

My friends and family keep asking me how I’m doing, and I can’t think of any way to answer other than “I’m pregnant.” That’s really all there is to say. It’s all encompassing, all consuming. I’ve gone from sleeping seven hours a day to sleeping ten including the two hour nap every afternoon and spending most of the rest of the day wishing I were asleep. If anyone tells me I’m glowing from pregnancy, I’m going to have to hit them with a frying pan. Or my likely with my pillow that is in permanent fixture on my couch (with my head on it). Not as deadly but much easier to reach and not so much effort. Of course, no one would tell me that right now unless by “glowing” they mean “pasty and half-dead looking.”

I nearly made it to church on Sunday but started getting shaky right before I walked out the door. This happens if I don’t eat for one or two hours. Sunday School hour is from 10 to 11 and the service from 11 to 1. Potluck is after that around 1:30. I ate breakfast when I got up at 8:30 so I could make it through the getting ready part of the morning. Small problem. I pretty much melt when I’m pregnant, go nowhere, and do nothing for a couple months until this part wears off.

And to think, a mere two weeks ago I was finishing my last softball game! Actually, that last week I was already starting to wear out much faster and was glad that we were nearly done (we found out I was pregnant right before that). And now I’ve turned into a zombie. At least I don’t have to eat brains. That’s a plus. You know, it’s really the little things that keep me going….

The little things plus George, who has been absolutely indispensable. He’s pretty great under normal circumstances, but he is now approaching SuperHero-dom and may soon require a cape and alter ego. Evidence: in addition to his normal wonderfulness of changing diapers, helping with and entertaining the kids, and all that Dad stuff, he now has started organizing and making dinners (which I did not ask him to do), keeps the kids busy with their chores and away from asking me the usual 10,000 questions per day, can tell by one look how I’m feeling, refills the ice in my water cup when he walks by, reboots the computer network fifteen times a day when it goes down in the middle of the show that I’m watching downstairs (he has a computer box downstairs with a bunch of shows that we can play on it over the network from the media box upstairs…. or something like that….), and is adamant that I get a nap every day which is nice because I reeeeeally need one.

My energy level has dropped to the Mostly Dead category, which presents a bit of a problem with five kids swirling about the house. I’ve been working on coping strategies that I can manage from the couch with a minimum of movement involved, so hopefully I’ll be able to be more help. Anyway, George has been miraculous and wonderful and I’d never get through this without him. Anyway, this is pretty much how pregnancy is around here for the first few months, so next week we’ll talk about something else, okay? As much as I don’t feel like actually talking or moving, the old neurons seem to work okay and I can type in sarcasm, so that still works I guess. Nice to know something is still me in there even when I’m Mostly Dead.

Rachel