I've started feeling strange abdominal cramps. I'm worried that something is going wrong. Obsessing about my uterus was a useful distraction, at least, from the horrible movie Paul and I went to see tonight. (Not even the delectably pockmarked Jet Li could save it, and I normally like the hitting.)
For the record, I refuse to believe it has anything to do with helping Paul move lumber yesterday. I keep chanting to myself, "Slave women gave birth in the fields and kept on working." I, cream puff that I am, need not worry about overexertion.
Aside from the sore breasts I've had since I began the progesterone suppositories, I had my first symptom of pregnancy tonight at the movie. Paul unwrapped a chocolate bar and the smell of it was so intense I had to get him to re-wrap it. It felt like an assault. It didn't make me feel sick, but, wow, sensory overload from a whiff of chocolate. Since then, I have noticed that everything smells like cigarettes. Some women get a lush new rack. Some women get lovely skin. I get a full pack of Camels crammed right up my nose. Thanks.
If something is wrong, there is, of course, nothing to be done. Third beta is tomorrow.