Week 8 And Feeling...Well, Sometimes Great

Well, we've officially hit the 8 week mark on this baby thing. 2 months down, 8 to go. Sesame Seed is now the size of a kidney bean, and while I love having him/her around, I'll be more than glad to say goodbye to the morning sickness.

Actually, today's been an okay day for the nausea. One day I'll eat something (or not) and the nausea will have me spending hours of quality time contemplating the minute details of my toilet. (Just so you know? Toilets are incredibly boring to look at). The next day I'll eat the exact same thing, and I'll be completely fine. Like the time Tony was trying to teach me poker and I got all excited because my hand was "all red cards", I just can't seem to get the hang of what beats what with these morning sickness rules.

But like I said, today's been a pretty good day. And despite the fact that I make him buy anti-nausea medicine by the caseload, Tony's pretty excited about Sesame Seed too.

Oh ya'll, he's so funny about me now. He doesn't really say much about the baby (well, other than asking if we can name the child after his favorite hockey goalie, Nikolai Khabibulin, which was sweet but no...), but he's gotten to where he touches me constantly. A head massage here, a shoulder pat there, an ear rub while I'm waiting for the nausea to pass. And he'll pat my tummy too, but so carefully and gently it's more like the brush of feathers than an actual pat. I think he's afraid that I'll break if he uses any more pressure.

(Well, break or barf all over him, which I suppose is a valid concern).

He holds my hand while driving. He pats my leg while watching tv. It's so funny. He didn't touch me this much when we were newlyweds. But I think touching me helps him believe that it's real. (I'm not sure what's going to happen when I actually start showing...his hand may be permanently glued to me by then). Still, I think the little pats reassure us both (or all three of us), and I wouldn't trade them for anything.