They say each pregnancy is different and I am finding that to be true. With Piccolina I was really gag-y and nauseous. With this pregnancy the nausea is not nearly as bad but the gas....Oh the gas. I will have to take before and after pic of my belly for you to fully appreciate the extend of volume I generate throughout the day. In the morning I look normal for a gal who is still in the 1T. By the evening I am so bloated I look 4 months pregnant. So much so that people might actually rub my tummy but the joke's on them becasue they'd probably just jiggle out a ginormous fart. Embarrassing? Yes. But it would certainly cure them of rubbing bellies.
The one symptom that is the same is the sharpening of the sense of small that makes one's stomach quiver. For me, it's not all smells or the usual smells. Coffee? fine. Cream of Mushroom soup? Yes please.
No, for me THAT smell is breath. Not even bad breath (although, good-God if it's bad, Lord help me). It's just breath. And I can smell it. From across a room.
While standing in lines I have to hold my hand over my mouth because I can smell the breath of the person in front of me and the person in back of me. At meetings I can identify the individual breath of every person sitting around the table.
I've developed a coping mechanism. I carry a pack a Trident gum with me and pass it around. Usually a few people take a piece and it seems to help.
OK not so bad. I can deal with some breath every now and then. But here is the part that makes me a little sad. Mr. Peeveme's breath also makes me gag. It's not bad. Like I said: It's breath. And I can smell it. Even minty-fresh breath makes me gag. When I was pregnant with Piccolina I had to finally ask him to stop kissing me on the mouth becasue it made me gag. I felt soooo bad telling him and he was kind-of hurt but I could not take it anymore. Even just a quick peck hello or goodbye was unbearable. It really sucks to not be able to kiss your handsome husband and know you have hurt his feelings.
It looks as though I am getting to that point again. I have not told him. I just keep turning my face a bit so that his sweet, loving, nauseating kisses fall on my cheek. It's so cold. I'm hoping he gets the hint and I don't have to tell him he makes me ill.
Poor Mr. Peeveme. Between my not wanting to kiss him and my horrific gas I'm amazed he still loves me. Ha Ha sucker. You got married for better or worse.