Sniffling to happiness
Just to show me that God does indeed have a sense of humor (albeit a crude one at times), I have come down with a cold.
Throughout the last 8 or 9 days (apparently, since implantation), I have had serious bouts of fatigue, just enough to let me know that there were Men at Work in my body. I could practically feel the little guys in my uterus, putting up scaffolding, hammering away at some recalcitrant vein, stomping around in their little hobnailed boots, getting the place ready for the new Occupant. Occasionally they would stomp over to my ovaries and give them a kick too, just to keep things fair. Then they would stub out their cigars (another twinge!) and stomp back to the uterus to continue the remodeling job.
In any case, the little men were winning. I didn't dare fight it, since I figured my body knows best. And I didn't want my body taking up energy staying awake when it could be using it to build an Occupant instead. So I was sacking out twice a day, morning and afternoon, and dragging around like Banquo's ghost in between.
But yesterday afternoon, there was a break in the clouds. I noticed that I wasn't quite so fatigued. The little men were quiet, apparently taking a coffee break. And I felt -- yes! -- decent.
And then I noticed that my throat hurt. Hah, hah. Thanks, God. (But actually, should this pregnancy really take hold, I owe God a BIG one. So I guess I can amuse Him/Her with my sniffles, if necessary.)
Luckily, I rarely run a fever when I am sick, and I haven't run one with this cold, so I have hopes that it won't affect the (apparent) incipient pregnancy. I haven't taken anything for the cold except hot chicken broth with fresh garlic (which makes me feel better, briefly, but doesn't do much in the long run). And Kleenex(TM) and I are getting intimately reacquainted.
The biggest thing is worry, of course. D. points out that women with colds have gotten pregnant and stayed pregnant throughout history. (I have no idea where he got this factoid -- out of the thin air in his cute little head, I suspect.) But I know there's nothing I can actually do about the cold ... so I pretend to believe him. And I wait. For tomorrow morning.
Throughout the last 8 or 9 days (apparently, since implantation), I have had serious bouts of fatigue, just enough to let me know that there were Men at Work in my body. I could practically feel the little guys in my uterus, putting up scaffolding, hammering away at some recalcitrant vein, stomping around in their little hobnailed boots, getting the place ready for the new Occupant. Occasionally they would stomp over to my ovaries and give them a kick too, just to keep things fair. Then they would stub out their cigars (another twinge!) and stomp back to the uterus to continue the remodeling job.
In any case, the little men were winning. I didn't dare fight it, since I figured my body knows best. And I didn't want my body taking up energy staying awake when it could be using it to build an Occupant instead. So I was sacking out twice a day, morning and afternoon, and dragging around like Banquo's ghost in between.
But yesterday afternoon, there was a break in the clouds. I noticed that I wasn't quite so fatigued. The little men were quiet, apparently taking a coffee break. And I felt -- yes! -- decent.
And then I noticed that my throat hurt. Hah, hah. Thanks, God. (But actually, should this pregnancy really take hold, I owe God a BIG one. So I guess I can amuse Him/Her with my sniffles, if necessary.)
Luckily, I rarely run a fever when I am sick, and I haven't run one with this cold, so I have hopes that it won't affect the (apparent) incipient pregnancy. I haven't taken anything for the cold except hot chicken broth with fresh garlic (which makes me feel better, briefly, but doesn't do much in the long run). And Kleenex(TM) and I are getting intimately reacquainted.
The biggest thing is worry, of course. D. points out that women with colds have gotten pregnant and stayed pregnant throughout history. (I have no idea where he got this factoid -- out of the thin air in his cute little head, I suspect.) But I know there's nothing I can actually do about the cold ... so I pretend to believe him. And I wait. For tomorrow morning.
posted by Hetty Fauxvert at 8:32 PM
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