Follow Amy:

I have a fun new job chronicling my pregnancy at Momtastic.  Here’s my first installment.  There will be a new post up on Momtastic each Thursday. 

IMG_3444

For two and a half years, I wished on every star, eyelash, and birthday candle that I would get pregnant. I had almost lost hope of giving my daughter a sibling when boom: two pink lines. I was blissed out on baby dust for a solid week. Then, the symptoms kicked in and my gratitude was replaced by round-the clock complaining.

“Kill me now,” I moaned to my husband recently, after bowing to the porcelain throne. “Didn’t you, um, want to be pregnant?” He reminded me. “Desperately?” I did. I do! But I was under the mistaken notion that the second pregnancy would be somehow easier. Muscle memory would be on my side.

Instead, I have all the symptoms from round one plus a whole new batch of so-weird-I-have-to-Google-it ailments. For instance, cotton mouth, the likes of which I have not experienced since college, when my roommate had a bong. I’ve created a tropical eco system on my side of the bed with a humidifier and a case of electrolyte-enhanced bottled water, and I’m still waking up parched.

Below the waist, it’s the opposite. I’m borderline incontinent, and really wondering if I should just keep a stash of Depends next to the Pampers Swaddlers. I’ve also got a rash, from – get this — my thighs rubbing together. It’s very attractive, and probably here to stay thanks to the freakish fall heat waves we’ve been having in Los Angeles.

Story continues at Momtastic…

 

Pin It on Pinterest