Went to see the dermatologist today – paid a thirty five dollar co pay to hear her tell me that she feels really bad for me, but there isn’t much of anything that she can do. I’m just itchy. Apparently, my liver, while functioning perfectly well, is also “just sitting there” and not doing much of anything with the bile which is causing it to build up somehow and make me insanely itchy. So far, all the bloodwork comes back normal, so there’s no risk to the baby, and she promises that once I deliver, the itching will stop. But since that’s about two months away, it wasn’t very encouraging.
I’m sore, just all the live long day. My hips hurt all time, getting up from bed or out of the car is just silly because I have to move really slowly and moan a little. I’m huge and itchy and uncomfortable and more than a little tired of it. I have hit the limit of where pregnancy is fun – now I’m just ready for the baby. Although I’m not – not really. I have no onesies, no diapers, no place for her to sleep, no pretty blankets that haven’t been annexed by Jessica for her dolls.
I’m miserable.
But on the upside, Sam’s doing great on the potty training – I’m certain that he’ll be fully trained by the time the baby comes. It’s entirely self directed on his part, and he’s doing great. No accidents and he’s asking to spend the majority of the day either naked or in underwear. Jessie is also thriving – we’re working our way thru the Chamber of Secrets and she’s reading more and more independently every day. Marc is struggling thru as well – it can’t be easy having a miserable, huge itchy wife, but he’s never once hinted that I’m anything other than completely charming – for which, I’m incredibly grateful. As the slightest hint of criticism is enough to make tears well up and then I’m sobbing.
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