Basically each day around 4:00 I get a wave of nausea that hangs around until bedtime. I feel crummy, but need to eat, and only odd things sound good to me. This is quite peculiar to Rory who will hear me talk about how sick I feel, and moments later find me in the kitchen heating salami, and wrapping a pickle with cream cheese in the middle. He'll say things like, "I thought you weren't feeling well." Even on the forth time around, pregnancy is still mystifying.
Other than that, I can't complain. I truly can't. I know the spectrum of sick from my pregnancy with Elsie, and this is nothing to complain about. I'm carrying a little life in me. I'm fine. Just don't say anything about my warm salami roll ups.
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