I don’t know how it is for everyone else, but the first time I suffered from morning sickness, I worried that I’d literally puke up something necessary for survival — a lung; liver; My intestines.
Right before my first bout, I had enjoyed a light, healthy lunch at O’Charley’s with my husband and parents. I felt pretty good about myself because I’d been the epitome of health ever since I found out about baby. I had given up caffeine cold-turkey, I ate lots of veggies, done everything you’re supposed to when eating for two. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about, It’s not hard,” I thought condescendingly.
Fast forward approximately one hour later and… I can’ even describe it. I just didn’t feel good, but I didn’t feel sick. I felt just… Ew.
“I can’t take it anymore,” I thought. "I have to, “Oh god, something’s going to come out.” Fifteen minutes later, I’m still deep-breathing. I know this has to happen, only I can’t accept it. I turn around and kneel before the commode that is my firing squad. I wait. I heave.
I. have. never. ever had a puking experience like that one before. I don’t mean to be crass, or gross, but goodness. I decide it’s best to shudder and sigh as loudly as I can, in the hope that my husband will come upstairs and feel really sorry for me. He must not have heard.
They say pregnancy is such a beautiful thing… I suppose it is. But after heaving up things I shudder to think of (even now), I am so skeptical that pregnancy is anything but horrible. I decide that very night, once and for all — THIS will be my last baby. I can’t do this again. I just can’t.
I love the baby growing inside of me, but I resent it for making me pull over into a stranger’s driveway to ralph-and-run. I hate that I now can’t stand the smell of my very expensive face wash, the smell of otherwise freshly scented things like soap, certain lotions, and worst of all, Parmesan. I hate that I now spend at least fifty bucks on car air fresheners, each one with the intent of removing the sickly scent of the last.
Looking back on my little trip through Pukesville, I must admit, I now think twice about going through it all again. For me, the exhaustion and constant nausea was worse than the birth by 1,000 percent. It wasn’t easy when folks would say, “Oh, I never did get sick with any of my babies.” Really? Really?
But when I look at my little blue-eyed bear giving me his best, “yeah, Mommy — I pooped!” grin, I think about how that was him in there. He was the one in there all along making me toss perfectly good cookies. And then, the trip through Pukesville doesn’t seem so bad after all. I mean, I wouldn’t stop for sight-seeing or anything, but I’d definitely make a pit-stop again in the future.
Were you one of the lucky ones? Share your morning sickness memories!