Thoughts on Morning Sickness
September 13th, 2012
Every now and again, you hear stories of women who don’t know they’re pregnant until they give birth. I never fail to be completely and utterly baffled, bewildered, perplexed, and vaguely irritated by these stories. Part of my brain simply cannot accept that these stories can be true (surely they were just in denial). And if the stories are true, then I find myself hating the wenches for making it through forty weeks of pregnancy with no inconvenient symptoms.
I am fourteen weeks pregnant (YAY!) and have yakked up my dinner on 29 of the last 32 days. Add in an assortment of other barf episodes not linked to the dinner hour and it’s been a rough couple months.
Pregnancy is fascinating. This is my third and each one has been totally different. With Miss Mouse, my morning sickness was mostly limited to the morning. Buggie spread his out more throughout the day, but it cleared up by dinner time. Po (in-utero name) makes his presence known with near-clockwork precision 90 minutes after dinner.
And anytime I so much as consider eating sugar.
That one hurts. I have a sweet tooth the size of Montana and used my first two baby-making rounds as an excuse to mainline Oreo milkshakes for nine months. At the moment, they’re off limits. As are cookies, chocolate, waffles, cinnamon rolls, and donuts. I may weep.
Lucky for me, regurgitating a meal doesn’t seem to have a lasting impact on my desire to eat those foods. Give it a day or two and I’m ready to roll again. I’m tough like that. Or maybe I just love food too much to let something like barf stop me from enjoying it. Whatever.
I’m hoping there’s a light at the end of the tunnel since my morning sickness has, in the past, turned off magically as I exited the first trimester. That would mean I should be recovering any day now. Just in time for caramel apples and pumpkin scones. Mmmm.