Fingers crossed didn’t work. Throwing up is back.
But it’s probably not just the fact that I didn’t take my pills last night.
- I didn’t get much/enough sleep.
- I got 11,000 steps. Translation: a lot more expended energy than has been typical of late.
- I ate lunch late.
- The drive home took almost 4 hours and I didn’t have snacks in the car. Translation: too long without food in my stomach.
It was all a recipe for disaster for this pregnancy.
I’ve got to go to sleep, but I really want to write about my dream last night.
I wasn’t married. Was pregnant. Was trying to get a table at a restaurant with a guy so I could tell him I was pregnant and he was the father. The guy was Dave McKnight, a guy from my sophomore year in college that my roommate dated. Go figure.
These dreams where I’m pregnant and unmarried happen with some regularity. As do dreams where I’m in a vast warehouse-sized room full of bathroom stalls. Most don’t have doors. Most are nasty. Some don’t have toilets at all. Those that do have seats that are too high or too small or too dirty or blocked by something so you can’t sit down anyway. Not that you would want to because you have no privacy. But you’re pregnant and you must pee. So you find something that you think you can make work only to find that the walls are so low that everyone can see in. It’s all so awful. And it happens way too often in my dreams.