Week seven started with some rather upsetting news. My mother called to inform me that my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Trying to concentrate on anything at work on Friday was difficult and my fatigue seemed back in full force. Luckily, the cancer had not spread and all that was required was surgery, which was not scheduled until the end of March.
A new crop of pimples were planted onto my face. At this rate, I should be through all forty-four presidents and their wives in no time at all. I was pleased that George W, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison and Monroe had disappeared; however, John Adams was still lingering. This wasn't an emergency session of Congress or anything, it was my face!
I spent the day Saturday resting with my husband. I actually felt good enough to get in a walk on the treadmill at a slight incline. Keep in mind, I said I felt well enough; not well.
Jeff and I actually told my mother and father on Saturday due to my Dad's illness and upcoming surgery. Jeff didn't want to tell his parents yet so we're still keeping it hushed with the rest of the family until after the first trimester ends. My parents were thrilled and my mother already started making plans.
I was miserable on Sunday. My frequent trips to the bathroom at night are really taking their toll. Most of my day Sunday was spent lying on the couch moaning and cursing my husband under my breath. The dogs got into my stash of saltines and all I could do was watch them munch away at the only food I could seem to tolerate that day.
I woke up Monday morning feeling miserable. I was tired and nauseous. My face looked like a bomb exploded on it and my hair looked like it hadn't been washed in a week. Isn't my hair supposed to be spectacular during pregnancy? Obviously, it's not during the first trimester. I really felt too ill to do anything with it and I couldn't afford to miss any work no matter how badly I felt. I made it into work and wrote up an extra lab for my training class so I could just be miserable at my desk while everyone else worked on the lab.
I woke up in the middle of the night with abdominal cramps. I was panicked. However, it was only because I was severely constipated. I ate some whole wheat English muffins and their eight grams of fiber per muffin had me in the bathroom most of Tuesday morning. At least, I feel better now.
I came home on Tuesday after a day that felt like it would never end. I was tired and starving. I had to eat. I ate a mini-frozen pizza, then a small bag of popcorn. I convinced Jeff to give me some of his hamburger and I finished it off with an English muffin with strawberry jelly and a tall glass of milk.
We are advised as pregnant women to watch our weight. We are told that we should only need a few hundred more calories a day than we did before. It is stressed that just because you're with child, is not an invitation to eat so much you gain eighty pounds. Twenty-Five to 35 pounds is the recommendation. I want to know how any woman is able to do this with this amount of hunger. Add to that the lack of exercise because of the fatigue. I looked at my weight chart for the first trimester and I should only put on two to three pounds. I really want to know how this is possible.
I woke up Wednesday morning and seriously thought about calling into work to tell them I wouldn't be able to make it in. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to eat. I wanted to put my face in some type of base bath that would scrape the pimples from my face. Still, I dragged myself in and spent the morning training. I couldn't write a lab. I had to muddle through it.
I had a present waiting for me Wednesday when I got home from work. My mom had gone shopping. I had all sorts of baby paraphernalia and all of it was LSU themed. LSU baby rattles, LSU baby booties, LSU baby bibs and jumpsuits were all stuffed inside an LSU diaper bag. Ah, my mother knows me so well. There was also a list of things new parents need which was very useful. I didn't have too much time to look at it as I was back asleep by seven o'clock.
I was annoyed most of Thursday mostly because the blemish I named John Adams still refused to resign from my face. Well, he was known for being rather long winded. Perhaps if I would have named him William Henry Harrison, I wouldn't have had this problem.
By the end of the week both exhaustion and hunger had taken its toll. Jeff and I plan on kicking off week eight with burrito night since I've been craving Mexican food all week. I hope by the end of week eight my fatigue will be better. Only time will tell.