Twelve weeks

I feel the need to document this.

About fifteen minutes ago, I consumed one whole homemade banana waffle. With syrup. And I poured myself a very tiny cup of coffee and sipped at it.

I have not taken any Zofran yet this morning, and I haven't spent twenty minutes hunched over the toilet bowl. This is significant because, since the end of April, there have been exactly two mornings that I have not spent twenty minutes hunched over a toilet bowl: one morning last week after I got my Zofran and had to take some in the middle of the night, and this morning.

Could this be a turning point? I'm almost afraid to write that for fear of jinxing my good fortune, but if my morning sickness is on its way out, you'll probably be seeing a lot more of me here. I haven't been writing much of anything anywhere, and I haven't even been able to read a book in two months. Every time I try, it feels like I'm reading in the car on a very, very windy road. On a hot day. With no air conditioning.

I'm still queasy, but whatever, I don't even remember what it's like to not be queasy all the time. I've had this irrational fear for weeks now that this is just going to be my life, that I'll always feel a little sick to my stomach from here on out, that I'll have to discreetly duck out of Suzannah's high school graduation party to heave over a toilet. (Of course, this is entirely possible anyway, because yesterday was the seniors' last day at school and I kept thinking wretchedly that someday, my own little girl will grow up and leave me.)

This is also a turning point as far as my wardrobe is concerned. It's funny; I've gained less weight this time around (when I was pregnant with Suzannah, I gained ten pounds within minutes of peeing on the stick; as of last week I hadn't gained a thing this time around, although I don't know how I could, because as soon as food gets to my stomach it decides it hates to stay there), but my belly is pooching out sooner. Then again, I was pregnant with Suzannah in the late fall and winter, so I could wear bulky sweaters. We had a few days in the 90's this week, so no sweaters for me. I thought I was still doing okay with shirts that don't fit too tightly, and this week I dug out a pair of baggy capris that I bought right after giving birth to Suzannah, but my department chair informed me that I won't be able to keep up this charade much longer, especially if I keep resting my hand on my belly. I had no idea I was doing that, but my friend Kyanne was all, "Yeah, I noticed that, too." So today we're heading to the mall so I can buy some of those fabulous maternity shorts and pants, and I can stand in the too-small dressing room behind the filmy curtain and mutter about how no one gets pregnant for the fashion, but secretly I'll just be happy to be comfortable again.