I’ve been down with the flu all week, and it sucks. Sinus congestion, headaches, body aches, low-grade fever, and, of course, fatigue. Just walking around drains my energy.
I’m getting awfully darn tired of being sick. I got hit with some other flu-ish thing, slightly milder but still exhausting, in mid-December, and haven’t been properly well since. Unlike everything we caught last winter, neither of these illnesses seem to have originated in daycare; Little Boy was also sick this week, but with pink eye and an ear infection, both of which are bacterial. (Lucky kid—he gets antibiotics.)
Fortunately, your basic flu isn’t a threat to a developing embryo. Unfortunately, my pregnancy nausea is now in full swing, and seems to especially flare up whenever I lie down. So that’s fun.
My mental state is understandably not great, a combination of general misery, hormone-induced anxiety, and frustration at not being able to get anything done. I’ve been continually grazing on whatever food sounds good, and it’s triggering my body image issues hard. I feel fat and gross and ugly, and too sick to do anything about it.
Here’s hoping the next week is better—well, OK, let me rephrase that: here’s hoping that whatever crap the next week brings, I’m at least physically well enough to start trying to deal with it.