Saturday, January 3, 2015

LesCalendar: Week 6 In Review

We are nearing the end of Week 6.  Eggbryo looks something like this.

Image result for embryo week 6

And, our new thing is this big.


How does something as small as a pea cause so much havoc?  The following is a recap of last night's trip to my parents' house for dinner.

Prior to departure, Tommie wakes up from a two-hour nap and she is whispering, "I'm starving, I'm starving, I'm starving...holy shit, I'm starving."  She's too tired and nauseous to do anything about it.  I heat up a plate full of delicious baked rigatoni I made the day before.  I put it in front of her- although her head is now down on the table- and she cannot take one bite.  Her mouth is watering, and she begins to dry heave and eat simultaneously.  I try to get her to drink some water and take a ginger capsule.  Slowly, she eats the food, one rigatoni at a time.  She leaves 3/4 of the rigatoni brick on the plate and then forces herself into the shower. She lets the warm water and steam perk her up a bit.  The shower is a place of refuge because the pregnancy is causing a cold that has lasted about a month now and her inner-nose looks like a grotesque mine field of sores. Atrocious is the only word for it.  (I looked up there with a flashlight because nothing is off limits, already.)

She gets dressed and decides to wear a wool sweater because regulating her body temperature has been challenging.  She has already turned the heat up to 71 degrees for her shower.  After two minutes, the sweater comes off.  "I'm too hot," she whispers again.  It's barely audible.  We drag ourselves to the car.  During the ride, she is either green or white.  I cannot tell because her color is that of a chameleon.  She is making noises and I ask what they are.  "I'm about to throw up in my own mouth," she says. I decide to drive in the slow lane, in case I need to make a desperate dash to the shoulder.  "I'm not good right now," she admits.  

We get there and we are both trying to mask the fact that she is pregnant.  My parents have a huge spread already assembled when we arrive: cheese, crackers, fruit, chips, etc.  Tommie cannot eat any of it and she plants herself on the sofa for an hour.  To mock her misery, I take the following photo.



Dinner is a gourmet assortment of short ribs, rice, asparagus, and bread.  Tommie eats three asparagus stalks and a teaspoon of rice.  My mother says, "I think you need to go to the Minute Clinic tomorrow."  While I wash the dishes, Tommie returns to the sofa (see photo above).  My mother is mouthing these words to me: "I think she is really sick!"  Then she again mimes something that I translate to: "She needs to see a doctor."  While Tommie suffers on the sofa, I smile at the fact that our deception is complete.  My mother is now hypothesizing that Tommie has a "bronchial thing" or "Whooping Cough."  She has not uttered a single cough since we got there.  At this point, I send a text to Schneider.  She will know what do to.  I get this back from her...


Needless to say, today will be spent shopping for Preggie Pops and "Poop Shake" ingredients.  Schneider has a killer recipe.  More to come about LesCuisine.

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