Hey . . . meet Sputnik!
This is actually from a couple of weeks ago. Been a while since I’ve mentioned the new one, huh? I have a very good excuse; even a doctor’s note.
Right around the six-week mark, I started feeling sick, sick, SICK. It was horrendous. I never full-on barfed, but I was always at that last step right before one does. That feeling stayed with me from waking up in the morning to going to bed at night. Unconsciousness was my only defense. I even started to lose weight; I never lost a pound with Lydia.
This came up at my last doctor’s appointment and, glory of glories, she prescribed me some happy happy anti-nausea medicine that has been a wonder. Dance! Unfortunately, due to an insurance prescription cap I didn’t know I had, I am officially maxed out on drugs until January 1st, so what I have is what I get. Fourteen pills left. I hope I don’t get really truly sick between now and January, actually.
Waiting ’till Thanksgiving to tell everybody didn’t exactly pan out. The Husband talked me into telling immediate family the same weekend he found out, and so we did. After the last appointment where we got to see the heartbeat and all that jazz, we’re pretty much telling everybody. I decided on Sputnik because I’ve decided it’s a boy since it’s kicking my butt so much more this time.
So here we are, two days after Thanksgiving, and I cannot wait for it to be January. Or Spring, for that matter. I’m cold.