Beany Baby

Yesterday I hit 7 weeks. Apparently my baby is now the size and shape of a bean.

This has caused much hilarity with my partner and sister as beans are among my most-consumed food. It has caused me some slight concern in the fact that it perhaps may just be a bean. My partner did highlight that this would be a lot easier to give birth to (obviously being well informed and experienced in the subject matter) because it would just 'fire across the room'. Hmm.

This week I've leveled and troughed. I don't think I got as high as a peak, although the closest thing was probably seeing that my boyfriend had put up blinds in the kitchen so I didn't have to look at Dead Guy's House (currently up for sale), who's derelict kitchen door and grease ridden windows face straight into my kitchen window. Even a 6'7" fence hasn't obscured the view. When I came home from the first 30 minutes of exercise I had managed to haul my hefty, exhausted body to for a good few days and discovered the revelation of my now protected kitchen, I felt tears spring to my eyes.

There have been times this week, low, introverted, lonely times, when I could not see as a person what I am offering anyone at the moment. The loneliness is all consuming, my mind and body constantly goading me, coaxing me into shut down, into turning inwards, into sleep, rest.

The all consuming exhaustion, the constant sickness, becomes overwhelming and I cannot see beyond that. There are times when washing up, tidying clothes, making a drink feel like such an effort. I have watched my partner transform the house these last few weeks as I have moved around a hollow person, a ghost of myself, barely interacting. I feel like I am merely observing life, but I am too all-consumed by my own discomfort, sickness and exhaustion to become involved.

This weekend I have a good friend coming to visit me. She doesn't know yet. I will tell her, I can't not, not with the physical, emotional and mental wreck I am holding together at the moment. I am scared, nervous, as I have been meeting friends, socialising these last few weeks. I summon every ounce of energy, of happiness, of comfort - I find nice-ish clothes, I straighten my otherwise terrifying hair (the ill conceived 'I'm pregnant and depressed, I'm going to get my hair cut' hair cut). But it quickly falls away, abandons me, an hour or two in.

My sister and my family have been an incredible support. Despite my sadness, my lowness, my self absorption and my exhaustion. They listen, they tell me not to be stupid when I am apologising, they offer practical, helpful advice. So much so I am following my sister's advice and plan to have a Chinese dude stick pins in me in order for some relief (or distraction, either being a welcome change) from morning sickness.

There are some women on the forum I am on who haven't experienced any symptoms other than 'feeling a bit tired' and 'having sore boobs'. How I long for such tame, un-consuming symptoms.

I am: A mess. I cry frequently (big, unfeminine tears, accompanied with something similar to the wail of a banshee), I burp constantly, I am like a Tiny Tears baby, except with more bladder control.

My partner leaves for 3 months in London on Sunday, back for less than 48 hours every weekend. I am terrified of myself.

Last night I daydreamed as I was trying to sleep that I was doing a monotonous office job. Stamping endless forms, not thinking, not feeling. A non-caring, non-committal bliss settled over me like a blanket, I processed the days, no emotional output, no nothing. Instead I have a pile of self-generated, emotionally and mentally consuming work to tackle, all whose deadlines have been and gone, through a continuous stream of apologies and postponements.

I wonder if I can stomach a cup of tea before I start.