You know you’ve hit a new low when you’re blogging on your phone from the floor of your bathroom, curled up in a fetal position, head resting on a pile of (dirty?) towels:
So, I was really hoping to avoid any “let’s bitch about pregnancy symptoms” posts but, that’s going to be impossible. And enter: The Guilt, with a capitol G.
When you hear about morning sickness, you might think: “Oh! How splendid! Just a few hours of unpleasantness in the mornings! How delightful!”
There was the middle of the day episode where I’m literally hugging a toilet in the bathroom of Whole Foods, completely overwhelmed by the panorama of smells assaulting me from every corner of the store. Then there’s the “Hooray! I’m finally about to get busy with my husband for the first time in a week!” moment just before bed and then I feel my stomach lurch. Nope, no nookie tonight hun – I might barf on you. There’s the nausea that wakes me up at 5am, the nausea before meals, after meals, in between meals… it’s just *relentless*.
And yet, I have not vomited once. I’ve had two rounds of dry heaves (Whole Foods and now today), but no actual barf. I have this strange hope that if I can just produce one round of barfing, it will magically make my nausea disappear. I’ve tried sour, mint, ginger, fruit, water, smaller meals, larger meals, eating more frequently, eating less frequently, going for a walk, laying down, trying to distract myself and yet – NOTHING.
Back to The Guilt.
I lamented on Facebook today about my pregnant predicament and got lots of sympathetic responses and advice. All well intentioned, as usual. Many folks seem to believe I’m carrying a girl based on my parade of nausea, but I’m not so sure: I’m taking 0.1mg of transdermal estradiol, 4 mg of oral estradiol, 300 mg of oral progesterone and 2 doses of Crinone – DAILY. I imagine all these extra hormones are only exacerbating the situation. And I’ll be on these for another 3 weeks *sob*
And then I got a comment from someone telling me to “enjoy every minute of it – I know I did.”
Yes, I enjoy working half the time I normally do every day because I spend half of it in bed, wishing for the nausea to let up for just a half hour and thus losing the potential to earn more money as a freelancer. I enjoy laying on the floor of my bathroom (sweet Jesus I need to mop) while my cats pussyfoot around my moaning, crying body. I enjoy taking two bites of food in a restaurant only to carefully set my fork down and begin belching into my napkin as my stomach turns. I enjoy the perpetual worry about whether or not my baby is getting enough nutrients because I can barely eat and when I do, it’s usually easily digestible junk food or feeling bad that I skip my prenatal vitamins every few days or so because I just want to wake up one morning without feeling like I’m going to throw up my stomach through my mouth. I enjoy panicking that it’s almost week 9 (or may already be week 9 – I still technically don’t have a due date yet) and that I’m down almost 10 lbs and come 3 weeks from now, I should be gaining.
I get that I asked for this, that we wanted this.
That does not make my perpetual nausea suck any less.
I do *not* have to enjoy it. I do not have to be graceful about this.
(Grateful, yes. But hardly graceful. Or pleasant for that matter.)
I refuse to feel guilty about this. Even though… I totally feel guilty about how I feel.
I’m going to go back to playing games on my phone as I try to distract myself from the fact that I all I want to do right now is hurl all the way up from the bottoms of my feet and all over this bathroom floor – and yet *nothing* comes.