Karma.

So I've been in the child care industry for years now, and I've done enough research to make me never want to pick up a baby book again.  At this point in pregnancy, I figure most women are searching through Barnes and Noble with their decaf lattes for every modern pregnancy book available.  Me?  Meh.  I know about natural childbirth and organic living and attachment parenting and breastfeeding and positive discipline and babywearing and elimination communication and all that other good stuff.  At this point in pregnancy, rather than poring over baby books, I am usually bent over the toilet on the verge of losing whatever I managed to get down (but interestingly enough never actually losing it) and crying because this is just the beginning.  And at the end, all my karmic retribution for telling natural moms-to-be about the benefits of a natural childbirth.

Kill me now.

I used to think that I would be so excited to be pregnant that the pain would be nothing compared to the pure bliss I'd feel.  I had no idea what constant nausea would do to my morale.

I know I sound bitter, but I'm really excited.  I'm coming from LA, where there are so many places to go and things to do with a little one, and even when you're pregnant.  I know that kind of community exists.  I just have to dig for it in New Orleans, maybe.  Or maybe I'll just go back to LA...

"Honey, I'm flying back to LA."
Zack suppresses the urge to call 911 for a straitjacket, and speaks very slowly. "Um... why?"
"I need to be in Malibu right now, with a quart of cherry soy ice cream."
At this point I would completely forget about the fact that I haven't booked a ticket, and get in the car and drive to the airport, while Zack sits at home frozen in fear of what I might do to him if he raises any objection.

Somebody ship me some Pinkberry, stat!  Will satisfying cravings give me my sanity back?  Probably not... but they will hopefully relieve my obsession for ice cream alternatives.