Feeling Fine

Here's the reason why I have been flipping my shizzy about this pregnancy: I feel great. Other than feeling a little bit tired, having the short bout with cramps, not really feeling like eating much of anything at all, and having some aches in my abdomen after toting Grace around more than I should have this weekend, I feel like regular ol', non-pregnant Sara. Not even my prenatal vitamins are making me sick! I guess I wouldn't be as concerned about feeling as good as I do if I hadn't had such a HORRIBLE pregnancy the first time. When I was pregnant with Grace, I was sick from about week six all the way up until about five hours before I delivered her, and I had just about every other pregnancy symptom in the book, from achy boobs to heartburn to weird food cravings. Well, if my calculations are right and we conceived when I think we did (it's hard to know, since all of the ovulations I took over the course of two weeks in April came back negative and I have no clue when I actually ovulated), I am six weeks along and I feel...great. This should be a good thing, no?

I was actually hoping that my trip to the dentist this afternoon would get my queasiness started, just so I could have a little reassurance. But there I laid, with the dentist elbow deep in my mouth (God, I hate going to the dentist) and the hygienist sucking out my gums with that gross sucker thing and I didn't feel even the slightest bit nauseous. Not even a little gag. Nothing, except for my sweaty back and tense neck muscles that can be traced back to the four syringes full of anesthetic it took to numb my mouth and mascara streaks on my cheeks from when the drilling started and the dentist realized, probably because of my groaning and eventual crying, that he needed to give me EVEN MORE anesthetic. (This is coming from a woman who gave birth without an epidural willingly--this is how much I hate dental work. But that's another story.)

This may be the first time in my life that I have wanted to puke my guts out, just once.