Babies make me sick. Literally. It’s been 16 years since I last felt the lurches, gags and aversions of early pregnancy.
With Jay, I hugged the porcelain for seven months. My astounding ability to become ill at the smell of salt, watching a McDonald’s commercial or nothing became family legend and lore.
My inability to keep food down became so intense I lost 16 pounds in two weeks and had to be hydrated intravenously. The constant retching took its toll on my skin and eyes, too. They were red and patchy with busted blood vessels.
The only other contender for my attention was exhaustion. When I wasn’t making friends with the bathroom tile, I was conked out. Often the only way I could manage the two extremes was with a pillow in the restroom.
I hoped this pregnancy would be different.
By the way Jimmy watched me warily I knew he did, too.
Of course … the poor guy got the brunt of it. He’d tenderly hold my hair, ask me what I needed and bring me water to help soothe what the bile burned.
At one point, he couldn’t eat in our apartment. I was so sensitive the scents of everything he cooked, microwaved or brought home would gag me. Which, in turn, made him gag.
This time would be different. I would ‘will’ it to be OK.
My ‘will’ lasted approximately a week before nausea and Saturday afternoon naps invaded.
I held onto my composure shakily for about two weeks. Then, I lost it one morning before work. There was just enough time for me to quickly, loudly chuck dinner dishes from one side of the sink to the other.
As if on cue, Jimmy entered the kitchen. “Oh, here we go.” By the tone of his voice, I could tell he was only half-joking.
I couldn’t blame him. Life as we knew it was over.
Lately dinners have consisted of cereal, oatmeal and toaster waffles. If I get real fancy, I break out the peanut butter, jelly and swipe some on bread.
Jay’s asked me if I was becoming a vegetarian. Maybe. I became one with him. It wasn’t until after he was born I could enjoy a cheeseburger again.
My attempts at cleaning the house usually end up with a grand total of half the dishes being put away. Then it’s naptime again.
Weekends are a big snore fest. Jimmy’s been incredibly kind, patient and supportive. He’s doing the majority of the work, taking care of the kids and making sure I’m OK.
I’ll admit this isn’t near the intensity of last time – but it’s still isn’t easy.
I’m just glad we have something to look forward to.