Today, oddly enough, started off better than yesterday morning. But at 10:30 a.m., I can clearly say it is now worse than yesterday at this time. My weekend went by fairly well; Wes and I had a date night on Saturday and saw Juno which was hilarious. While I was feeling a bit icky all day yesterday, I was able to keep my head up pretty well and ate throughout the day.
This morning, I took my Zofran right away at 5 a.m. and am either grateful that it has kept me from vomiting so far, or am frustrated that it's not helping more. I made it into work by 7:10 and did end up telling my boss the big news. It makes me feel a little better not to have to fake it at least with him. I'm sure I'll end up telling my team by the end of the week if this keeps up, but I'm hopeful today is just a bad day and my body will adjust a bit.
I knew I would be here, and I'm still hopeful that I'll get through this better than last time. I do know I can handle it and I've got all kinds of help: my family, experience, doctors, faith. If I had to bet on it, I would say the next 4-8 weeks will be the toughest and then I think I'll start getting better. I can do this for 8 weeks. Maybe longer if I need to. God has blessed us with this baby and he'll hold my hand to see me through the hard parts of bringing Peanut home.
Little by little, one walks far. Peruvian Proverb
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