February 11, 2007 at 6:46 pm (Love and Marriage)
Tags: general life, Jonathan, pregnancy
Well, it would seem that for 2007, the accumulated score is Coralie’s immune system: 1, Viruses:0
My primary concern with the cold was that it would settle in my chest. I have a pattern of bronchitis, and knowing that viral infections are stronger in pregnant women, I was a little concerned that I would end up with pneumonia. So I laid low for two days, and slept a lot, and took what medicine I was allowed, and it would seem that the strategy worked. I still have that “gluey” snort which is so nasty to listen to that always seems to end a head cold, but no developing cough.
While I was laid out, Jonathan was fighting a different sort of battle. He braved the car lot this weekend. Our Hyundai Tiburon, a white two-door sports car just wasn’t going to cut it when a car seat came into play, so we had been planning to purchase a new vehicle sometime in my last trimester. Unfortunately, with 154,000 or so miles on her, the Tiburon had begun to rack up some “medical” bills over the last month. Rather than continue to sink money into a vehicle we knew we weren’t going to keep, we bit the bullet and signed on the dotted line for a 4-door Hyundai Elantra.
Jonathan blogged all about it, complete with pictures. For the record, he quotes me as saying “It’s cute! I love the color!” in fact, I was still very congested, and I think it sounded more like: “Oh, it’s cubed. I lub the cuber.” The rest of the story, however, is factual.
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February 10, 2007 at 12:53 pm (Love and Marriage)
Tags: Jonathan, pregnancy, writing words
I have entered the following post in scribbit: Write-Away Contest: February
The theme is love. The prize is chocolate.
I am lying in bed propped up with pillows, with my laptop on my knees (also propped up with pillows). I have arisen from bed once today, to fetch a drink, a toasted bagel, and said computer. The bagel was to nourish the baby, who, from everything I can tell is still quite content in his/her tiny (and hopefully virus free) little cocoon. The rest of me, it seems, is slowly being consumed by small viral demons who are apparently liquefying my brain, energy and internal organs, and funneling them out through my nose. It doesn’t appear to be an efficient operation, however, because there is a backlog sitting in my ears, the top of my head, and just behind my eyes.
Yesterday, I looked at myself in the mirror just before bed. My belly was squishy, my hair limp, and my entire face looked as if someone had sand blasted it, and then painted it with red food coloring. While I watched, a little bit of the viral waste began to creep from one nostril. After a loud, fog horn sounding blow into (yet another) Kleenex, I turned, to see my husband looking at me from the living room.
“I know you feel gross,” he said, “but I still think you’re beautiful.”
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