The way things were progressing, it seemed like a million years had passed us. In fact, it seems longer now, in hindsight.
However, I was STILL in my 2nd month of pregnancy, and as per the doctor's orders, was taking it easy and was off work.
The husband was travelling, and that was a good thing, because by now, my farts were the talk of town! Or at least, they sure felt like it.
My mother, who has been a victim of these bomb attacks ever since I can recall, was at her wits end. On the one hand were her daughter's pregnancy and her emotions; on the other, her nasal hair were seriously taking a beating!
I was off work and thoroughly enjoying the break. Entertainment was limited to watching Carrie and her friends have sex in 'Sex And The City'. Well, at least somebody was getting some, even if it was in reel life.
That's all I did all day. I mean, watch SATC... guffaw!! :D But for some inexplicable reason, that only pregnant women might understand, I had this weird fear that if I watched too much of all this canoodling and banging of bodies, my child would be a sex addict and I would be blamed forever!
And for this, I blame the friendly gyaan aka advice I received from some not-so-young women I knew who 'caught' me reading Sherlock Holmes one day. I don't think they would have been so shocked if I was canoodling the detective himself! But goodness gracious! Reading detective stories whilst pregnant is worse than sleeping with the protagonist, because horror of all horrors, your child will be born with snooping abilities and will view everyone he meets in life with a magnifying glass! :o
Any hoo, remember the superstitious me?! I thought, why take such a risk? So SATC was conveniently replaced with 'Grey's Anatomy'! If indeed the baby had to really get inspired, might as well become a doctor and then have sex, right?!
The baby, yes! S/he seemed to be growing fine. My system had somewhat settled, and there weren't any fainting spells a la filmy style. The ONLY thing(s) that bothered me were smells of egg and onion. AND PEOPLE. No, not their smells, although that is a non-pregnancy pet peeve, but people bothered me.
I would cry and bawl at the drop of a hat. I would cry if someone was sad, I would cry if the food was too hot. Too cold also left me in tears. Underwear doesn't fit, cue, me crying. Mom didn't make my favourite lunch, again, hysterics. You get the general idea, I suppose!
I had by now taken permission to work from home and had just about spent two odd days doing so, when the scary blood spots were back.
We literally ran out pantless, we were that scared. By the time we had reached the doctor, who was almost an hour away, I was shitting in my pants because I felt something wasn't right.
And sure as hell, was I right?!
As I stood in front of the doctor, she saw me looking down. And there it was, my 'gut feeling'. Blood was literally dripping down my legs and I was shaking as if I was in cold storage.
However, I was STILL in my 2nd month of pregnancy, and as per the doctor's orders, was taking it easy and was off work.
The husband was travelling, and that was a good thing, because by now, my farts were the talk of town! Or at least, they sure felt like it.
My mother, who has been a victim of these bomb attacks ever since I can recall, was at her wits end. On the one hand were her daughter's pregnancy and her emotions; on the other, her nasal hair were seriously taking a beating!
I was off work and thoroughly enjoying the break. Entertainment was limited to watching Carrie and her friends have sex in 'Sex And The City'. Well, at least somebody was getting some, even if it was in reel life.
That's all I did all day. I mean, watch SATC... guffaw!! :D But for some inexplicable reason, that only pregnant women might understand, I had this weird fear that if I watched too much of all this canoodling and banging of bodies, my child would be a sex addict and I would be blamed forever!
And for this, I blame the friendly gyaan aka advice I received from some not-so-young women I knew who 'caught' me reading Sherlock Holmes one day. I don't think they would have been so shocked if I was canoodling the detective himself! But goodness gracious! Reading detective stories whilst pregnant is worse than sleeping with the protagonist, because horror of all horrors, your child will be born with snooping abilities and will view everyone he meets in life with a magnifying glass! :o
Any hoo, remember the superstitious me?! I thought, why take such a risk? So SATC was conveniently replaced with 'Grey's Anatomy'! If indeed the baby had to really get inspired, might as well become a doctor and then have sex, right?!
The baby, yes! S/he seemed to be growing fine. My system had somewhat settled, and there weren't any fainting spells a la filmy style. The ONLY thing(s) that bothered me were smells of egg and onion. AND PEOPLE. No, not their smells, although that is a non-pregnancy pet peeve, but people bothered me.
I would cry and bawl at the drop of a hat. I would cry if someone was sad, I would cry if the food was too hot. Too cold also left me in tears. Underwear doesn't fit, cue, me crying. Mom didn't make my favourite lunch, again, hysterics. You get the general idea, I suppose!
I had by now taken permission to work from home and had just about spent two odd days doing so, when the scary blood spots were back.
We literally ran out pantless, we were that scared. By the time we had reached the doctor, who was almost an hour away, I was shitting in my pants because I felt something wasn't right.
And sure as hell, was I right?!
As I stood in front of the doctor, she saw me looking down. And there it was, my 'gut feeling'. Blood was literally dripping down my legs and I was shaking as if I was in cold storage.
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