Pink Pills and Puddy Tats

I am two months along today, and the lifestyle changes are becoming enormous. I am not talking about the loss of smoking and the switch to decaf, but the more life-wide sweeping changes. I am eating better than I have in years, and my tummy is finally adjusting to all the veggies and (OMG!) fresh fruit. The exercise is great, except for when I feel so fatigued I would rather turn into a fine goo than take an hour's walk. There, are, however, two changes I am less than thrilled about.

The first is somewhat minor, really. I had to switch from my regular multivitamin to a prenatal one. But, while I will miss my beloved herbal-enriched supplements, it is the style more than the content of these things that I disagree with most. PINK. They are huge and pink. Why? I wonder. And here I thought the days of pregnant lady = pastel nausea was over! Now I am stuck here taking pink pills like a toddler with the sniffles. I am not pleased. They do me no harm, but I dislike the symbolism for some reason.

Secondly, Friday night there was an adorable short-haired, white, male cat, likely about a year old, meowing at the window of my basement apartment. When I put my hand up to the screen, he head-butted me in the hopes of some affection. He may have been hungry, though he wasn't emaciated. He was a little dirty, without a collar, but I wasn't sure if he was a stray. In any case, the old me would have seen this as the kitty cat I had prayed for - a sweet, affectionate, furry companion! I would have at least brought him in long enough to find his family, and enjoyed his stay while it lasted (while hoping no one ever turned up to claim him). Instead, you know what I did? I told him to scoot and shut the blinds, nearly crying to hear him keep meowing there for another half hour or so. Why? Because I am a pregnant woman living alone without anyone to clean his box for me, so I can't have a cat. Pregnancy and litter boxes don't mix. I had to reject that cat because of being pregnant. That rather broke my heart.

If I see him around some more, I may have to call the SPCA or something, but I can't take him in. That isn't like me, at all.

So, in sum, I am having a fine time being pregnant, and I don't mind it. I am eating better, so I am working harder than before, and I am generally happy with my state - getting excited about the naming process and the care of my fledgling embryo. However, some of the changes have not been so welcome, so there has been an adjustment.

But this I vow - as soon as I can, so help me, I will have a furry roommate again. That is a promise.