MILESTONE DAYS.

I'm 15 weeks along.
I'm also chugging water to make sure that I can keep this pill down.
It ain't looking good, folks.

There are two pills left in my tiny bottle.
After tomorrow morning, I hope to never have to take these bastards again.
They make me want to die.  A lot.
The more you look forward to throwing up for relief, the worse you know the medicine is.

We have an ultrasound scheduled this Wednesday to ensure that everything looks good for the surgery.
I think the hub and I are both looking forward to it since my belly seems to have popped out in an enormous way.  By the time I get back to work, I doubt the people there will recognize me.
Yeah.  I'm now the big fat girl.  BIG.  FAT.  GIRL.

In positive news. . . (***searching***)

. . . I guess I'll force this:

*  Since I haven't been leaving the house, yesterday's laundry was minimal.  I couldn't believe there was only a load and a half of colors and a half a load of whites.  Then I remembered that I'm house-bound.

*  Having thrown up in a public parking lot, the Hub is taking morning sickness a lot more seriously.  When I was dry heaving while sitting on the couch yesterday, he didn't look at me sideways and ask when I would be up again.  (Note:  he is not an insensitive asshole.  He just never gets sick - therefore, he has no experience against which to mount his empathy.  He is a poor nurse.)

. . . That's all I got.  I feel like ass and according to the bitchy mirror in our bathroom, I look the part.  I hope to feel much better tomorrow afternoon - when I'm done with the Doxy and only a day away from the ultrasound.

Ugh.