It's one of those cliches they like to mock in movies and TV shows, the pregnant woman who's an emotional wreck. I wish I could say they're exaggerating, but they're really not.
Honestly, I'm watching Despicable Me and tearing up at the end. Earlier, I had an anxiety attack because I felt nauseated and my husband was at work and therefore unable to give me a hug. I cry at ads for shows that I don't watch. I have to fight back tears when it's time to do the dishes.
Logically, I know it's ridiculous - not to mention something that probably every pregnant woman experiences at some point - but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not sure if that makes me feel helpless or if it just makes it easier for me to resign myself to it.
Honestly, though, I think I could cope with the emotional stuff on its own fairly easily, if the morning sickness and general queasiness would abate slightly. I will say (and hopefully won't jinx myself by saying) that I'm extremely lucky to have a good 2-3 minute warning before I vom and I have yet (*knock on wood*) to throw up anywhere other than in a toilet or garbage can.
I can't wait to get to the 12 week point - not just because the morning sickness should (in theory) be on its way out, but also because Mr. Wolfman and I decided to make the announcement then. We've told our parents and siblings, but that's it. I'm a little worried about telling my bosses, but I'm really looking forward to telling my friends and basking in congratulatory glory for a little bit.
The weird dreams are keeping up, very often along the theme of me feeling that I'm supposed to be having a daughter, but I end up having a son usually without realizing I've given birth. The little bean has junk now, but it will still be a while before we can know the sex. I'm dying to know, but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.