I told one more person about Scout yesterday: Scout's Uncle Ghent. So now I need two hands to count the people who know. Still, I'm not ready to tell the world yet. Scout is still my little secret, and I like it that way. I need it to be that way.
I don't know if today's symptoms are the result of pregnancy, or the result of crying myself silly last night. Probably both. And the reason I cried myself silly last night? Mary. Though the raging hormones probably didn't help any.
So this morning I feel absolutely exhausted. My eyes are swollen almost shut. My stomach is a little upset, but I haven't thrown up. I gave myself a sizable breakfast--an OJ/strawberry/banana smoothie and an English muffin. I can't say I feel a whole lot better.
I am just so sick of death. It seems like every day I hear about someone else dying. My co-worker Eddie went to Atlanta Wednesday night for a wake. We got a call Thursday morning that the husband of a friend of ours in Ohio died. It's too much. The contrast is making Scout seem more precious than she would have otherwise. At least there is new life somewhere in the face of all this death.
I'm in uncharted emotional territory these days. I feel awkward and uncomfortable and lost in a fog of emotions. I want to go find a cabin in the woods and remain there alone for a month, just writing and playing piano and working through things. I don't want to hurt Scout with all this grief.
Ye olde boobies still hurt just as much as ever. I'm also having slight cramps where my uterus is. I hope that's not a sign of something bad. Every time I go to the bathroom (which is rather often), I dread seeing blood. The cramps aren't bad--they're similar to the cramps that accompany a pap smear/pelvic exam.
I'm ready for my hair to get thick and beautiful. I read that was another pregnancy symptom, but it hasn't hit me yet.