This weeks seems like as good as any to get sick, right? I mean, there's no therapy and Matt already has a bunch of time off work. I can't think of one reason why being sick during the fourth week of November would be problematic.
Abigail and I are full-blown sick and Matt says he can feel it holding just off shore. If we can get over ours and he can fight his off before it ever makes landfall in the next two days we should be able to make Thanksgiving with the in-laws. Otherwise it's going to be canned soup and freezer aisle pumpkin pie for us on Thursday.
To be honest, though, as far as colds go, this one is pretty easy and responds well to the uber-tame pregnancy-approved cold meds.
I am 15 weeks pregnant today, which means I've been pregnant for 13 weeks so far (the day a woman conceives, she's considered two weeks pregnant). In that mere 13 weeks of pregnancy, I've had two colds, passed a few kidney stones, gone under general anesthesia, had a kidney stent put in and removed, and had nausea and food aversions significant enough to put my body in starvation mode. As soon as I get through one thing, another pops right up. I was feeling pretty frustrated yesterday and at one point even thought, This pregnancy can't get much worse. But as soon as I thought those thoughts, a flood of way worse things entered my mind. Another miscarriage, placenta previa, needing the stent to save the kidney, becoming bed ridden, getting cancer. All way worse things that could happen. I could lose Matt while pregnant, Abigail could get leukemia, we could lose our car, a tornado could hit our apartment. While this may be a difficult pregnancy, it could be way worse. Translation: I need to count my blessings. Now that is a good realization to make during the fourth week of November.