I've been noticing I'm a lot more teary these days. I'm not any sadder; I'm just closer to tears. The "As Your Baby Grows" magazine I got as part of my first-visit goody bag says this is perfectly normal, probably partly due to hormones, but "a bigger reason" is that it's a momentous transition I'm going through here. Which certainly feels true to me. I don't know all the ways in which my life is going to change in about six months, but I know that it is, and I don't know if I'm ready. I'm definitely not sure I’m ready to be a mother. "I'm blaming you," I told Eric when I was complaining about some oddly bad nausea yesterday.
"How does that work?" he said.
"I figure your genes incompatible with mine and my body's rejecting them and that's why I feel bad."
"But half of the genes are yours."
"So they should be perfectly fine inside my body."
"So your nausea is my fault?"
"Yes! I'm practicing to be a mother! By blaming the father!"