Dear Baby

I'm afraid I'm not doing a very good job growing you so far. I've been flat on my back with this illness and, frankly, it's the most painful thing I've ever encountered. I said yesterday that I'd rather have nine months of nausea than this pressure and congestion. Maybe that's not so smart, but right now it sounds more exciting.

I haven't really had any symptoms of being pregnant. You haven't made me ill really. Just a little sleepier than usual, but I like going to bed at 9pm. Sometimes I'm scared there's something wrong because I feel sooooooo completely normal. Before I had any idea you existed, I evidently played 2 rugby games even.

So you, baby, have been victorious against Cleveland and Harrisburg already. I think you're going to be a flyhalf. I can tell already.

But anyway, this head cold is rough. I am having no difficulty giving up alcohol or even bad-for-us foods because all I have to do is think of you and your little developing arms and fingers and the decision to only put good things inside me is an easy one. I'm not supposed to give you Sudafed, though, and after three days only sleeping in 2-hour bursts, having used every tissue in our whole house and sleeping with a roll of toilet paper on my stomach...well it's getting harder to not medicate myself in some way.

I need to get better at perspective. I have a head cold. This is not a complication and, to my knowledge, isn't putting you at risk or in danger. This will go away by Monday (fingers crossed!) and I will enter the rest of my incubation of you energized and feeling like a trooper.