Six Week Milestone...Waaaaaa!!!

Well it's Monday, which means I just finished up my ninth week of pregnancy and I'm settling into my tenth week. I don't want to jinx anything, but it's possible the morning sickness portion may be getting better. Today has been a pretty tolerable day. I don't want to simultaneously scarf a pizza and throw it up, so I think that's a pretty good sign!

This morning sickness is for the birds. No, I haven't had the violent vomiting–thank goodness–but I have had this combination of always being hungry and always be nauseous. And the scale tips closer the the nausea side the more hungry I get. It's an endless battle and one I have taken upon myself to whine and mope about to my husband daily. I'm sure he's tired of my moaning, but I feel that since I'm the one with the baby growing in me and the birth to look forward to, while he just gets to kick back and be daddy-o with not so much as a mere broken finger or two during labor, I get the right to whine if I want to! :)

I've determined, after my highly scientific study, that there is a distinct reason why God designed it so that you could not both be pregnant and have a newborn naturally. The smells of Desitin and formula might as well be sewage or moldy cabbage. Even certain lotions must be avoided or I get the gag reflex working. I find myself in the middle of the night burping Lamaya while also leaning away trying to find my happy place to keep the room and my stomach from spinning. Oh, what an adventure!

Heading into my 10th week also means that Lamaya is six weeks old now. My little girl is almost all grown up. Before I know it we will be picking out a prom dress, locking her up in her room to prevent any males from seeing her beautiful little face until she is at least 35, graduating high school, walking her down the aisle.... I need a tissue. Okay, so maybe I have just a wee bit of time until then, but it sure seems crazy to me that she is already six weeks.

The funny, or not so funny, thing about six weeks is that Lamaya's pediatrician made sure to clue me in on a little milestone we will hit at this stage. It's called the, "Every six week baby cries, on average, three hours per day." Oh yes, and like clockwork, she is dusting off those lungs and whaling like it's going out of style. And, like everything else, she is above average with this milestone. Last night was our first treat into the six week milestone. Every half hour she wanted to make sure we were still in the house, or at least within earshot–so, basically, within a 5-mile radius. I took the late night shift, which ended around 2 am and didn't sleep but maybe 45 minutes. Tim took the early morning shift, which ramped up shortly after mine ended and he was up nearly every 30 minutes. I got to thinking that maybe she just wants us to exercise with all this getting up and down. I'd prefer she focus her efforts during the daytime, but it's awfully sweet of her to be thinking about our health.

And boy does that baby girl got some l-u-n-g-s on her. Sure, she has cried here and there since we picked her up, but not the kind that I can hear through floor upstairs while Tim is rocking her and trying to calm her. I swear I felt the floor shake a little.

So, you know, we are trying to learn new ways to comfort her. The old go-to's are SO last week to her now. This is some adventure we are on. I think, for Christmas, all I want is just a bag of magical sleep dust. Where I can sprinkle it over me and it's like I slept the whole night. That would be marvelous.

Keeping it real in mommyhood,

AA