For a while now (ever since morning sickness has gone), Hubby and I have been going to a pub on Sunday afternoons for a sneaky pint of Guinness. Well, a whole pint for him and wee half pint for me. We sit and chat and we play pool. We’re always the only people in there and sometimes the bar staff play pool with us.

We don’t tell anyone because sometimes people are weird about pregnant women drinking, but my doctor says it’s okay and really, it’s a half pint once a week. There’s something about our little secret that’s really fun. Plus, the pub is in the basement of a flower market so after our sneaky pint, we go up and buy huge bunches of flowers for the house for pennies.

You may all flame me and tell me my baby will be born with four legs and 15 toes now.

This week has been so up and down. I keep trying to remind myself that a lot of what I feel is because of pregnancy hormones and not to get too upset, but sometimes… sometimes I just get so pissed off at things.

It started on Wednesday night. Hubby and I went to our local for quiz night and the pub was sooooo smoky. It seems everyone in Beijing smokes and they didn’t have any windows open or ventilation. I wasn’t a smoker before getting pregnant and now smoke bothers me even more. After about an hour I had had enough, but Hubby didn’t want to leave. He kept going to the bar for more pints for him and his friends, and then… and then HE STARTED SMOKING. RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I know he always smokes after a couple of pints, but still. HIS WIFE IS PREGNANT. It seemed like something really insensitive to do. So anyway, I got really pissed off and moody. Didn’t help that the next day I was physically ill because I felt like my body had been poisoned. I’m STILL hacking up crap from my lungs and it’s Sunday today.

The next morning I tried to talk to him about it but he just got defense and snappy with me. Anytime I mention anything to do with his drinking or smoking, he pretty much refuses to have a conversation about it. It’s his ‘thing’. I read somewhere that men always need something to fight about in a relationship. That it’s kind of their nature. They need that one thing that’s all about them sticking it to their wives. They need it to feel manly or something. Anyway, this is his thing.

(But to me, to ME, it was like he was purposefully putting my health and the health of our baby in danger because he wanted another pint. I probably just should have left and left him t it, but I couldn’t. I wanted him to protect me. Is that crazy? I wanted him to say, "Darling (he never calls me that), it’s too smoky in here for you and the baby. I’m taking you home.")

On Friday we had a cocktail party for Christmas to see all our friends before everyone leaves for the holidays. We had one last year and it was a great success and everyone was asking when we were going to do one this year. I didn’t really want to because it’s a lot of work for me to put these parties together and I was feeling so sick from Wednesday but we did one anyway. So it took two days of going from store to store trying to find all the ingredients necessary to cook. The Western grocery stores never carry the same stock and I looked everywhere for stupid bread sticks and couldn’t find any. Also no cranberry juice anywhere in Beijing it seems. Anyway, two days of shopping for food and marinating things, and prepping and decorating. While I felt ill. Urgh. I got it all done and the party was a great success. I even managed to stay up until midnight, which is amazing (ask anyone who’s pregnant about staying up until midnight). All I asked of Hubby was that he put any leftover food in the fridge and throw away all the paper plates and plastic glasses. The rest could be piled in the kitchen to wait for the maid on Monday.

I’m woken up at 4 a.m. by the TV (which is BLARING), and Hubby passed out on the sofa. No cleaning was done.

Now, I know Hubby probably had this thought process, "I’ll totally clean, right after I watch this episode of …" and that he didn’t leave the place a mess to piss me off, or with the intention of making me clean it up. But I felt like he did. I got pretty upset and started cleaning myself, he eventually woke up and helped me but I was just angry at the whole situation.

(I wanted him to say, "Darling (he never calls me that), you’ve worked so hard for the last couple of days, sit down and don’t lift a finger. Let me take care of this." But of course he didn’t. He was too drunk to say much of anything, actually.)

I don’t know why these things are so upsetting to me. But they are.

I want to feel spoiled and taken care of, and I suppose I don’t feel that lately. I still feel like Hubby is still the center of Hubby’s life and I need it to be about me right now. Is that completely selfish? Am I being a crazy, irrational pregnant person?

Most people don’t know that the climate in Beijing is pretty similar to being in a desert. No, really.

To give you an example, I have three humidifiers going in the house (bedroom, den and living room) and each has a capacity for six litres before needing to be refilled.

I REFILL THEM ALL THREE TIMES A DAY.

And still, I wake up with cracked lips and sometimes a bloody nose.

Because of this extreme dryness, the doctor has told me I need to drink an insane amount of water every day. But here’s the thing, my bladder is shrinking so I have to go to the bathroom like every five minutes.

Also, on a completely random note, my belly button is stretching out and looking weird. It’s kind of freaking me out.

This little terror just ate my kniting needles. Good thing he’s adorable.

I can’t believe I’m up at 7:30 a.m., much less going to work (a small contract, not REAL work).

Why do I agree to these things?

Urgh.

I’ve finally passed the 13-week mark and am in my 2nd trimester, and after seeing the doctor a couple days ago and seeing that the baby was good and healthy (and hearing the heartbeat on the Doplar), Hubby and I breathed a collective sigh of relief. And then we posted the ultrasound pictures on Facebook because that’s what classy grown-up people do these days.

It feels great to finally be able to tell people about the pregnancy and not keep it a secret anymore. What’s even better is that all of a sudden, I’m hungry again and not only that, but food looks and smells good again too. And I can stay up past 9 p.m.! That’s pretty amazing as well. I’m sure I’ve been a pretty boring wife the last couple months; pecking at cereal, then napping, then sipping at soup, then going to bed. And in the spare time when I was awake, all I did was complain about how constipated I was.

There’s only two more things I’m waiting for; a bump and that great pregnant glow everyone talk about. So far, my skin has reverted back to a stage of adolescence that I would prefer to forget called My Skin Hates Me. Urgh. I’m dreading our Christmas trip to Australia because I’m breaking out on my back, of all places. Like, really? What the hell is THAT all about?

I WANT THE GLOW!!!

Listening to Christmas music and dancing around the house.

A return of my appetite is surely worth this celebration.

(Because someone posted a comment about it and I can’t respond to comments.)

Hubby and I have had sex about three times since I got pregnant. Why? Well, at first (in the beginning at 4-5 weeks) I would get really bad cramps after sex and that freaked me out because severe cramping is a sign of miscarriage. So we stopped.

And then I got nauseous. And tired. And now my belly is growing and it’s uncomfortable and the positions we CAN do it in (use your imagination) make me want to vomit because I’m moving around too much.

Maybe some women get all horny when they’re pregnant but personally I think it’s a myth. I think most pregnant woman feel like their bodies are being taken over my an alien and there’s nothing really sexy about that.

Plus, the exhaustion. You completely underestimate how tired you’re going to be all the time. I mean, when you think about it, my body has grown a couple cells into what is now the size of a peach, a little person with little organs all working away.

I’m tired just thinking about it.

I’m having one of those days where I’m doubting everything. Okay, not everything. Only one very specific thing. Hubby. It started today when I was fooling around online and plugged in data for our Chinese horoscope compatibility. The result? Completely incompatible. Of all of the Chinese signs, we are the two LEAST likely to work long-term. The site said, "You are two different people who will always feel like you are compromising yourselves just to get along."

So I did what any other hormonal pregnant woman would do. I cried.

And then I started re-thinking the last six months of my life. Should I have accepted the proposal? Should we have gotten married? Should I have gotten pregnant? Will he be a good father? Why hasn’t he stopped smoking yet? DOESN’T HE CARE ABOUT THIS BABY!?!?!?

And then I cried again.

It’s 8 p.m. and Hubby still isn’t home from work, Puppy is being a brat and I just can’t deal with it right now. I’m ignorning him, which of course makes him go, "OMG, what can I do to get her attention? Eat her shoes? Eat this bill? Rip this pillow?" I want to sink into a hot bath (but not too hot cause that’s not good for the baby) with a glass of wine (which of course I won’t do) and pretend I’m 20-years-old again and don’t have to deal with any of this stuff.

I’m also constantly starving, but don’t want to eat stupid Chinese food, I want food from HOME. I want pizza from HOME. I want tex mex food from HOME. I WANT TO GO HOME AND GORGE MYSELF ON HOME FOOD. But I can’t. And I’m starving. And nothing looks good to eat. And I’m getting fat but losing weight at the same time. All of a sudden I can’t sleep at night because my body isn’t my body anymore – things are moving around in there and it’s NOT COMFORTABLE.

I WANT HUBBY TO STOP SMOKING AND HE WON’T AND IT MAKES ME WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE.

Sweet Baby Jesus, I really am pregnant.

I went to a local Irish pub for lunch today and ordered Shepherd’s Pie mostly because I wanted the mashed potatoes and was too lazy to make some for myself.

The pie comes and underneath the mashed potatoes, there is spaghetti sauce.

I’m so used to these little oddities about China that they don’t really bother me anymore. I just shrugged my shoulders and ate the spaghetti sauce.

Just another one of those ‘China Moments’.