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Hanging On

6a00e5518fb7e8883401156f84c796970cI went to pre-natal yoga this morning. I really don’t react well to the singsongy, miracle-of-pregnancy, whisper talking thing. When the teacher is chanting, “relax and connect with the light of your womb” I’m thinking, “shutupshutupshutup why can’t you talk in a normal voice who the fuck talks that way” Last week I went to a different class. I actually really liked the teacher, she was pregnant and very down to earth. But during final meditation she played the most GOD AWFUL music I’ve heard in many a year. It was this Joan Baez-esque connect with the soul of your baby folk piece of drivel that totally defeated the purpose of meditation. Note to self: never play music with words during meditation. Nobody likes to be instructed how to feel.

The irony is, I bet if I hear that same song during my third trimester I’ll be crying all over my yoga mat. Such is the schizophrenia that is pregnancy.

Nausea update: Still there. Freaking tired of it. Better than before, still tired of it.
Skin: meh
Fatigue: check
Mental Hygine: fair to middling

Waist: disappearing
Belly: growing

There’s a woman in one of my pre-natal classes that had the nausea from hell for 13-14 weeks. She’s all glowy and smiling now, so I think that means (Please, God) that there’s hope for me. I’m 11 weeks on Thursday. Any minute now…

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