Yesterday I was disoriented all day and kind of pissed about it. Couldn’t make sense of this new way of being; my body, after all, the primary means by which I negotiate the world and now this body is fundamentally changed and so I felt…unsure. Like, what do I do now? What the hell do I do? Away for the weekend with family, by the water, which is wonderful, but I’m hesitant with ocean waves, not wanting to get knocked around too much, turning my back to them, wanting to protect. I did go for another run/walk. Don’t want to be all fragile but I am cautious. My newest comparison: I bet Olympic athletes aren’t all hesitant when they’re pregnant. Well, good for them. As it turns out, I’m not an Olympic athlete.

Also, queasiness just sucks, it really does, hard to be in a good mood when queasy. I refuse to call it morning sickness. It comes at any time of day and it’s not cute. I’m tired of cute names for things that happen to, are felt by women. I am queasy. I am sick to my stomach, it’s not quaint and I’m not giving it a friendly, little nickname.