Though I am not feeling back to my usual self, my nausea has abated significantly. And I am only 8 weeks, so this is very unusual. I spent 2 weeks praying mightily for this and now that it has occurred I am worried. I hope little Pinto Bean is okay! Usually I do not worry about anything and Dave worries about everything. Perhaps though, this is proof that everything is indeed okay with Pinto- as it is Dave's child, it is inflicting upon me its genetic predisposition for worrywart-ism as it swims anxiously about my insides.
I called the doctor to make an appointment today, only to be told that she is too popular and not accepting any new clients and that the office will set me up with someone else who could be a serial killer for all I know and that's who has to deliver my Pinto.
Little Pinto, providing s/he is still okay, is now the size of a cherry and even has pigment in the eyes. As both Dave and I have blue eyes, he reminds me often that if the baby pops out with anything but, I am in big trouble.
In my Christmas stocking, Dave stuffed the first purchase for our Pinto. Note his wishful thinking, as evidenced by the color of said purchase.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"If I have to smell my coworker's tuna salad sandwich for one more second, I am going to lose my cookies. Wait, did someone say cookies?"