Today I’m not really in a great frame of mind. I never considered how hard it would be to be “leaving” the community in which I’ve grown so accustomed to. After the initial shock and excitement of getting my BFP, now I’m realizing that a lot of the people who read my blog, who were aquaintances, will no longer be coming around. And I’m very sad by that. I understand it, don’t get me wrong – there were times when I couldn’t read pregnant blogs. But it makes me sad, too.

My blog here certainly has/will change. It’s about me, and whatever I’m going through. Right now it’s about my pregnancy, and it will hopefully be about my baby. My readership will change, I know that. Hopefully some stick around.

I’m still feeling… angry. Getting pregnant didn’t cure that. It made it sting much, much less… but I still find myself passing someone in a store with a bunch of kids and thinking how they probably have no idea what it’s like to struggle to have a child. The pregnancy groups I’ve been wanting so desperately to join are full of people who got pregnant on the first or second or third try. No fault of their own. But it’s hard to deal with sometimes. It’s hard to realize that, even though you’re pregnant, you’re still set apart from others. They’re talking about ovulation dates; you’re talking about egg retrievals and progesterone suppositories. People make jokes about sex and you reply that you didn’t have sex to get pregnant. It wasn’t even part of the equation.

Remember back when I started infertility treatments that I worried about getting pregnant right away because I would feel guilty? I’m still wondering. Even after failed clomid and IUIs and a failed IVF… I’m still sitting here wondering if I’ve suffered enough to not feel guilty for getting pregnant when others still aren’t. I still hurt so much for everyone else.

All I can really say is that I’m sorry. I know it’s not my fault… but I’m still sorry for every one of you who still are going through it, never knowing if it’s ever going to happen for you. I hope some of you will see me as a success story, as hope, but I know some of you won’t be able to. My blog rss reader still has all the same blogs in it… I’ll still be adding to it… and I’ll still be reading to cheer you on and lend a shoulder.

So today I learned that overeating is a bad thing. Either that or chicken salad… but I’m not too eager to try either one of them again, just in case.

I ate breakfast this morning, figuring I’d stay ahead of the game. I brought saltines with me to my client’s so I could munch all day. I started feeling hungry at around 9:30, 10:00. Everyone ordered food from a deli nearby and one of the girls went to go pick it up at around 11:30. I was famished. Of course, being a deli, it had a bunch of stuff I shouldn’t eat. Ham (and their ham sandwich was FANTASTIC the last time I had it), tuna. So I decided on a “chicken salad plate.” I had no idea what that was, but figured chicken salad had to be good.

So the girl didn’t get back until like 12:15 and by then I was about ready to eat the container I was so hungry. My “plate” had a mound of chicken salad, more crackers, some tomatos, a scoop of potato salad (which I dumped in the garbage – blech), some slices of cheese, and lettuce underneath at all. That chicken salad was SO good. I was trying to work and stuff my face at the same time. I ate it all (except the tomatos and the potato salad)… after the chicken salad and crackers I poured dressing on the lettuce and ate that as a salad. YUM YUM.

Immediately after that I had to run to make an appointment with another client. I get there, we sit and go over stuff for quite some time. I think it was over an hour that I had been there when… *grrrrrpppppppp* My stomach starts having some really REALLY bad rumbles. The kind that made me clench my thighs together and wince. It was painful – must have been gas bubbles or something? Meanwhile the client is talking on to me and I’m taking some notes and trying desperately not to let my face show a horrific twisted-up expression. The grumbles slowed down and subsided briefly. Then started up again and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

Let’s just say I didn’t puke. My poor, poor stomach.

I came home, did some stuff, then went to pick up Den… and when I got there went running into the bathroom again. The ride home was unpleasant.

As Serenity said in her blog… it’s amazing how something less than a millimeter in size could have such a big effect…

So from now on small meals. Even when they’re really super fantastic. Small, small meals.

As a side note, when I eat it’s still sitting up higher in my stomach than it ever did before. It’s probably a very small difference, but like when you get a grain of something stuck in your teeth… it’s tiny, but it feels like a freaking boulder because it’s not the way it ever was before. That’s how my stomach feels. When I eat it’s sitting in a lump just above my belly button… when before I used to feel the “weight” down lower after a big meal.

Now… what to eat… I’m kind of afraid to eat anything. (Well that and there’s not much in the house that I can just snack on… and I don’t feel like cooking or anything.)