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And a half.
My physical degeneration has now become actually comical. I’ve been suffering, for instance, from bouts of pregnancy insomnia. A friend kindly recommended chamomile tea; but that’s no good, because drinking liquids causes my stomach contents to slosh acidly up into my throat even despite the Ranitidine, meaning the only way to avoid heartburn is to maintain a state of chronic dehydration: and you know what that’s not good for? Low blood pressure. Yep, that’s still going on. This morning we ventured, I dunno, three hundred metres to the walnut tree to collect walnuts. Between the walk and the stooping I came over all faint on the way home and would have had a nice lie-down, except I’m in the middle of making fudge and bread dough, neither of which lend themselves to neglect.
Remember Rachel Lynde’s dire condemnation: “She washes her dishes sitting down“? Well, I’ve one-upped whoever it was by not washing the dishes at all; but everything else I’ve taken to doing more or less horizontally. I sit while chopping apples, lie down to administer Rowan’s spelling tests, and completely fall asleep while she’s reading me Pippi Longstocking for English. If I could figure out a way to be actually comatose while making dinner, I’d do it.
On the bright side, I think I’ve managed to partially stave off baby brain by maintaining a constant alertness as to the windows of time in which I can take my drugs. Ranitidine, for instance, cannot be taken within two hours of calcium or iron supplements. I’m not *on* calcium supplements, but I am craving milk like a freak; but I can only drink it if I’m not planning to nap or do Hypnobabies (ie nap) for the next few hours, because it aggravates my heartburn. (Oh, you found milk helped your heartburn? Allow me to hiss my congratulations.) And iron, of course, is best taken with Vitamin C, which also aggravates my heartburn. Then I’m supposed to take my probiotics with meals, and my iodine… any time, actually, that one’s not so bad… and my Fluoxetine late at night to minimise its drowsifying effects, but not *too* late at night because I have to swallow it with water, and again, heartburn. Which is also a consideration for the raspberry leaf tea I’m meant to be downing by the gallon to prevent my uterus becoming flabby and useless, presumably from following the example of the rest of me. And I haven’t even bought zinc yet to combat PPD and promote bonding, which – if animal trials can be extrapolated – means I am probably going to roll on and/or eat my young. And that being the case, why even bother with vitamin D? Cannibalistic sow-mothers don’t deserve to be happy and strong-boned.
This had better be one heck of a baby, is what I’m saying.