Well, I'll be eight weeks along tomorrow, and I officially feel like death most of the time. Which is Such a Good Sign! as my doctor always loves to say cheerily. Meh. I call bs on that one. I know plenty of people who had lovely healthy babies without ever barfing, you know? But I guess since I seem to be one of the lucky half of women who DOES feel sick from pregnancy hormones, for me perhaps it is in fact indicative of a healthy baby. At any rate, my progesterone is now a whopping twenty four, which is the highest it's ever been with any pregnancy, so it seems that my body is actually responding to the supplements! (In the past, it often wouldn't... I'd be taking tons and tons of it, and then my levels would only raise a point or two. It was so weird.)
I don't have another check up until January fourth, which seems so far away, but I know the holidays will make it rush by. That's the kind of nice thing about having my first trimester coincide precisely with the holidays. Makes normal festive things like cooking, cleaning, decorating, shopping and general bustling around a bit daunting, but it will certainly make these draggy, sickish, still kind of iffy-feeling next four weeks go a bit faster, I imagine.
What seriously sucks, and without any silver lining, is that our roof is leaking again, into the same freaking closet, and the roofing company now says they're simply going to have to replace a section of the roof. Fun! But at the least the mold remediation company that came out for an inspection said there's nothing bad enough to be torn out, just bleached down, dried with fans and coated with an oil based Kilz. None of which I can do in my delicate condition, of course, so that's nice. The worst of it is that I am still short a closet- the closet I usually hide all the presents in! Not sure where everything's going to go once I actually get in gear and start shopping.
Oh, and? Just in case I didn't already feel like barfing? We have mice again. I didn't even play around this time. After two traps were... activated in one night (the night that it got really cold and snowed,) I called an exterminator to go crazy on the place, attic to crawlspace. Best of all, he's also responsible for coming back and emptying the creepy cages full of poison and glue pads that he placed around the "hot spots." SHUDDER. I know it's mean and I feel so bad about killing little creatures, but the idea of them in my house makes me NUTS, like seriously in need of anti anxiety meds to sleep nuts, especially now that Jamie spends his days all over the floors and putting everything into his mouth. The germs! The possible fleas and diseases and feces! THE CREEPY LITTLE RODENTS WITH THEIR CREEPY HAIRLESS TAILS!