How are you guys doing, for a change? Are you good? You seem good. You’re excited that it’s starting to feel like fall. It’s getting to be hoodie weather, which is great. Some of you have been picking apples, that seems really fun! Some of you got married recently! Congratulations for that, that also seems like it was fun.
Things here are fine. Billy did a 200 mile relay race this weekend (he ran 16 miles over 24 hours or something, he’s in great shape, good for him) so he asked my mom to come up and take care of me for a couple days, which was odd if only in that I am used to hosting people like my mom to come stay with me by, for example, making the bed for her and cooking meals and offering her things like glasses of water. This time she made the bed for me, cooked me a bunch of meals, and walked my dog a lot of times. It’s weird letting people take care of me sometimes. But it’s become necessary. I’m trying to embrace it.
Something that has been happening this week is this sort of bizarre, torturous loop of misery where I eat something or drink a sip of water and then lie down on my side on the couch to rest my hips/back. The lying down causes heartburn/indigestion, so I sit up. Sitting up hurts my hips/back. And on and on forever. It got so bad last night when I went to bed that the heartburn turned into acid reflux, which, if you’ve never had acid reflux, that’s when you barf without barfing, basically. It’s like having gas but not being able to fart, except with barf. If that makes sense. It’s horrible! So I ended up going to the bathroom for the 17th time, banging my head lightly against the door for a minute to organize my thoughts and make a plan of action, googled it on my phone, and then went back to bed and propped myself up in order to limit the stomach acid coming into my esophagus, but I can’t lie on my back, so propping myself up means propping up my side and putting a good deal of pressure on my hips. Whatever, I fell asleep and it was fine. Not great but I’m not dead. I kept saying to Billy “indigestion can’t kill me, right? I won’t die from this?” Just to confirm.
I think the acid reflux was caused by a questionable choice of dinner. Sunday marked the start of Favorite Foods Week (TM). We got pizza from A4 in Somerville, an amazing pizza place that I love deeply. I had the homemade fennel sausage and homepickled banana peppers pizza which, SHOCK OF THE CENTURY, caused a bit of indigestion. Also I ate the whole 12 inch pizza, along with a kale salad and like 7 Halloween Oreos (the best of the novelty Oreos). My stomach can’t actually fit that much food in it anymore, turns out. Like it’s already after 11am and today I’ve had one small muffin and a peach so far and I’m good to go. This was not the case in the rest of this pregnancy, when I was an insatiable food monster, but the baby has taken up all the spare room in my torso at this point, so I can’t eat like I’ve become accustomed. No room for food. If I force it, it gets pushed back up in the form of very unsatisfying barf-mouth.
Pregnancy is a beautiful miracle.
No, it kind of is, though.