week 16: inflation and cessation

Yes. I finally feel like maybe there is something in my gut. My fundus, dude, it's getting harder. Or bigger. Or both. Eww. Sqwik. All I know is that if I manipulate my abdomen in certain ways, I can totally feel my uterus. I had an ultrasound on Friday, and can I just tell you? The thing is like ten times bigger than it was a month ago!

What I really want to talk about is not smoking. You see, I truly enjoyed smoking cigarettes. I loved having a reason at work to go outside and take a break at 10:00 and 3:00. I loved the feeling of rolling down the windows in the car with the music loud and a cig in hand. I loved the way it went with a beer, a tangy cocktail, or a nice cuppa coffee. I loved the deeply-smoked after dinner smoke, and I loved a second one if the meal was particularly satisfying. I loved the first cig of the day on the way to work, and I loved the last cig before bed. I loved the occasional cigarette in bed, you know when.

I always knew it would be really hard for me to quit. I told myself I would smoke until I got pregnant, thinking surely it must be a million times easier when you have such a strong motivation to quit. Pretty sad that I couldn't be my own reason. But since nearly all of the people who read this also smoke, I'm sure you understand. It's just that good. And legal.

I am very surprised at how easy it was for me to quit. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was pregnant for about a week before I actually peed on the stick. I didn't quit when I suspected, in fact, I cherished those cigarettes like never before. I knew once I knew that I couldn't keep doing it. And once I knew, like a champ, I fucking quit. Just like that. Easy as pie.

Every once in awhile I stole a drag off of Micah's cigarette, right up until a few weeks ago, but it only happened every few days, and usually only after a meal. For some reason, this is the cigarette craving I cannot elude. After every meal, without fail, I feel...squirmy. Unsatisfied. Like I'm missing something and I don't know what it is, except I do know what it is. I miss my fucking cigarette. All of them, actually, but especially that one.

It worries me. It worries me that after two months of not smoking the smell of someone else smoking still makes me want to smoke. I am already salivating at the thought of having a cigarette with my first post-partum cocktail. That does not bode well for my future as a non-smoker. You know what? Being a non-smoker is fucking weird. Being a pregnant non-smoker is just about the most alienating combination of things for me. I can't think of a more awkward way to live.

Within the past week I have developed what I'm pretty sure is the famous I Just Quit Smoking Cough. It's a deep, rough cough that sometimes produces an interesting blob but mostly it just sounds like a smokers cough. I've been told this is my body trying to expel the ten years of tar I've loaded up in there. While I must admit on some level it's quite satisfying, both the not smoking and the subsequent coughing, the fact is that I would still be smoking if I didn't get pregnant and every little nook and nerve in my body knows it.

I plan to attempt breastfeeding, which means I still won't be able to smoke post-partum. If I get a breast pump, which I probably will, I could pump ahead of time if I know I'm going out for drinks and maybe a few smokes. I just think it's sad that I'm already thinking of ways to get my cigs in without harming the babe. It doesn't bode well. I really hope that by the time I give birth the thought of smoking repulses me enough to never touch one again.

Or maybe just when I'm having a drink. COME ON. That shit is the best.
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p.s. Happy Birthday to my blog!