food is not my friend

Since my last post I've been too tired, nauseus and self-involved with all the changes that are happening to me to write. While my body is busy baby-making my stomach is sending little gasous rejection notices out of every possible orifice.

Bodily sounds escape here and there and sometimes a partially undigiested meal decides to join with them. Although my husband is holding down the fort he is experiencing sympathy pains and sends out groans and grunts of discontent about as often as I do. When we pass eachother in the house we exchange glances with wrinkled forheads and exchange noises.





The good thing is that we're not going at it alone. In addition to my husband the formetioned sister-in law, that belongs to my husband's competitive family, also manged to get preggers at the same time -- but she is a week ahead.

Various baby-growing websites are consulted by each of us each week and they equate the size of the growing human to various edible items. Inevitably this leads to comical conversations between my husband and his sister.

"We have a lentil!"

"Oh yea? I have a fava bean"

"We have a kumquat!"

"Oh yea? I have a lime"

Uhm... when is she going to realize that she'll always be a week ahead!?!

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