Week 1-2 (3-4 weeks pregnant): Big Belches and Sweet Dreams

Before I even tested positive for being up the duff, I sensed that there was something different going on in my body; that something different happened to be a sharp uptick in belching, which alternated with being slightly nauseous. Despite the fact that I had cut my soda intake significantly since I had my suspicions about being knocked up (I’ve curbed my caffeine intake lest my babe be born with a small head; wait, maybe I need to hit Starbucks more often), I found myself belching at the most inopportune moments: at a restaurant, at the movies, at work when with patients. These were no ordinary belches; these were the kind of belches that would make adolescent boys proud, and with little to no warning that they were coming. Sometimes I would literally just open my mouth to talk, and out would come an earth-shattering expulsion of gas from the inner-most reaches of my gastric cavity, with not so much as a rumble from my stomach to warn me of its imminent arrival. Anyone that knows me knows that I’m not one to shy away from belching in front of, well, just about anybody, but the constant threat of surprise gas was enough to make me want to keep my mouth clamped firmly shut at all times. At least I could blame my newfound flatulence on the yet undetected and rapidly dividing clump of cells that had just anchored itself to my uterus. Daw. Pregnancy is so beautiful.

In addition to copious amounts of gas, I had also started having absolutely insane dreams that were so vivid I could have sworn they were real. I started out having dreams about babies, but then I began having dreams about characters on the show Dexter almost every single night (hey, maybe I can contact the writers of the show and share my visions with them for a nominal fee). Eventually those dreams morphed into dreams about being in the process of buying a new house, but backing out at the very last.