Diana was pretty miserable again tonight, with the constant "stuff" wanting to come up from her stomach and the dry heaving and the ineffective Tums and what not. She's had this problem night after night, pretty much all week. I hate seeing her like that, and I hate that there's nothing I can do about it.
She's sleeping upright on the couch right now, and seems to be doing OK. I think she worries that this is how it's going to be for the next three months, but interestingly, it seems like every week is something new. The little guy has been ridiculously active now for almost three months, and we call him the ninja because he loves to kick. It's also weird how he feels what Diana feels. In some nasty turbulence over the gulf flying out of Orlando last week, she was somewhat terrified, and the lad was not pleased with the shot of adrenaline he got (either that or the shitty airplane food).
We're at a strange point where on one hand I wish he could be born now so that Diana can be her old self, but on the other hand, I'm not even remotely ready for it. Some days I'm completely terrified of being responsible for another human being when I barely feel able to keep up for myself.
Hopefully a call to the doctor tomorrow will offer some guidance on what to do with constant acid reflux night after night.