So, nausea is a funny thing. It makes me not wish to eat, although being hungry makes it far worse. Eating is fine while it's happening, but as soon as I'm done I feel even more nauseous than I was from hunger. It's a no-win situation. But food is still quite necessary. There is, after all, a baby in there somewhere. (At least, I think there is. I've had no confirmation of that outside of peeing on a stick a few weeks ago, and then the blood work I got back this week, but really the baby is purely academic at this point. It's Shroedinger's baby. It is both there and not there until it you open the uterus and look inside. The uterus is closed to me and will not be breached with a doppler or ultrasound until much later so the baby is... just an idea. An idea that's making me completely miserable most days with nausea and fatigue, but an idea nonetheless.) Where was I? Right, the baby, real or imagined, needs food.
So it is, that one day, I am barely able to eat some breakfast. As the day wears on I find myself unable to eat much at all thanks to my new pal, all day nausea, and by the time dinner rolls around I have eaten nothing. Hubby is off doing things like a functional human being. He went to work, then went to aikido and stuff... I am curled into a ball of discomfort and loathing.
But I need food. Yes, food is important. What sounds good? Nothing really... except. Maybe pizza. I don't have energy to make pizza... maybe delivery? Sure. Delivery.
I order a large domino's pizza. It arrives.
I was so hungry that I couldn't stop myself from eating a slice before I took this picture. BEHOLD! Something I could eat.
Ten minutes later.
I did manage to save that last piece for lunch the next day. Barely...
Honestly, I think you can see the pizza in the week 8 bump picture we took.