This is for all of you ladies out there who are barfing your way through your first trimester.
You know who you are.
It’s also for your husbands.
Last year at this time I was in some pretty dire straights.
My husband had just been laid off and we found out that we were expecting a new baby.
We had just gotten a dog, too…but that’s a harrowing story for another day.
Despite the fact that Dan was laid off, we were super excited about adding to our little tribe.
Unfortunately however, I get terribly sick during my first trimester.
Some women get morning sickness. I get all day and middle of the night sickness.
Growing a baby is no joke.
Like.. there is a tiny PERSON growing in your belly.
Who are these people who say it’s just a blob of tissue??
I would like to send them some science books, free of charge.
Knowledge is power, folks. Knowledge is power.
So, morning sickness.
It starts off with me being kind of queasy, where I don’t feel like eating.
And forget cooking! And cleaning. Those things are just impossible for me then.
My husband and children are very kind and supportive.
It gradually gets to the point where I am throwing up at all times, indiscriminatley.
9 am? barfing. 10 am? barfing. noon? barf. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 pm? Yes.
10 pm? GUESS WHAT.
You already know.
I don’t even bother shutting the bathroom door after the first few weeks of being sick.
I’m sorry, but I just can’t find the strength.
All of my effort is going into one activity – hanging onto the wall and throwing up.
That’s actually two activities if we’re keeping score.
My family doesn’t even react. It’s like I’m not even there, yacking up my lungs.
They become numb to it.
I will take this moment to inform the reader that you should never ever EVER eat spaghetti
and meatballs when you are in your first trimester.
This practice should be banned in all corners of the world.
All OB’s and midwives should warn their patients of the disgusting nature of vomiting spaghetti.
It’s like throwing up a wood pile, it really is.
|The most unappetizing plate of spaghetti you have ever seen. Sketch fail.|
When I was pregnant with Miabelle, I became so sick that I had to take a medication.
Don’t you dare say one word about my medicated 1st trimester of pregnancy. Don’t you dare.
Oh I tried allll the potions, honeychild. The ginger. The peppermint. etc etc…
The ridiculous sea bands, which my wrists hated me for.
Not only did the sea bands NOT WORK, but frankly, they were damn embarrassing to wear.
I have tried all the natural remedies.
None of them work for me.
So I took the medication.
And that brought on another problem.
A problem that I can’t really talk about here, as sometimes there are gentlemen present.
But let’s just say I was buying stool softener like it was goin outta style.
And let’s also just say that the whole ordeal was straight up one of the most alarming things I have ever experienced.
It was also rather isolating.
No one wants to discuss this issue with you.
Well, Dan would. But a person can only handle so much.
|He’s suppossed to be crossing his arms here but instead it looks like he’s wearing one of those glow necklaces. I’ll be hearing about this later. lol Sorry Danny.|
So I know a thing or two about first trimester sickness.
The way I typically cope is by laying on my side and moaning the following sentences:
“Ohhh. I am soooo sick.”
“Oh my gosh I don’t feeeeeeeel good. Whyyyy am I sooooo sick.”
“it’s not ^&%&#%%# fair! It’s just not #E*&#~^#*&^* fair.”
I mean I am not kidding when I say that I just could not even get out of bed.
It was that bad.
I would just lay in bed on my side in a catonic state, staring at the wall.
Finally it occurred to me that I could do something while I laid there.
I could watch me some shows on my Kindle Fire!
You thought I was gonna say “pray the rosary”, didn’t you.
Well I did that too. Don’t you worry.
But do you think I could really handle meditating on the second glorious mystery when I was
feeling THAT nauseaous??
Come on dude.
You know how in Romans 8, Paul was all “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how we should pray, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with inexpressible groanings.”
Yeah that’s pretty much where I was at.
And groaning is way better than some of those sentences I shared with you a moment ago.
I had been hearing my friends rave about Downton Abbey for months.
What’s so great about this show? I would wonder.
Looks kinda boring to me.
WELL I WAS WRONG. DEAD WRONG.
I started watching and I couldn’t stop.
The drama! The scenery!
The Dowager Countess.
Never in my life had I imagined that I would look forward -with such crazy anticipation- to watching a bunch of people cleaning floors and bannisters.
Warning: when Downton starts airing again, I am going to be recapping episodes with my stick figures here.
You know that part during the theme song intro where the feather duster is attacking
|da da da da da da da daaaaaaa (la la la la la laaaaa)…sing with me|
I get heart palpitations during that.
I get so excited!
I know. There’s something wrong with me.
By the way, why does Laura Linney make an appearance before every show?
That is so odd.
“I’m Laura Linney and this is Masterpiece Classic.”
|No one knows.|
I started watching Downton Abbey episodes back to back, while lying in bed.
I’m not gonna lie..In my weakened state, I began to envy the Crawley girls.
|Lady Mary, when life was simple and carefree.|
I would watch them getting their hair did and having their corsets tightened
and I began to feel a sense of injustice.
I would see Lady Grantham sitting in her bed in the morning, sipping tea
with a roaring fire going in the fireplace,
maids scurrying all around her
like they were getting the room ready for a ghetto rich photo shoot
and I would think “I am legitimately ill, and no one is bringing me any damn tea.
How can I get some of that high tea action up
in this crib?”
And then BING!
Just like that, I got an idea.
Long ago (ok 13 yrs ago) I went on an incredible trip to Rome for World Youth Day.
On that trip, I bought a bell.
A heavy (albeit small) iron bell to commemorate the new mellenium.
What had I ever used this bell for? Pretty much nothing.
But that was aaaall about to change.
When I first starting using the bell like a rich Crawley girl,
Dan chuckled and said “You’re really using that?”
Oh I was.
He was amused.
I would lay on my side, watching Season One of Downton Abbey,
trying to distract myself from throwing up by watching
Lady Mary sipping her tea.
Then I’d think “I just need a hot cup
of peppermint tea to keep myself from getting sick.”
I’d ring my bell and politely say “Will you please make me a
“Sure”, he’d say.
None of this “Run along and prepare my tea” in Lady Mary style or “Yes Lady Heather” nonsense like Carson would have said.
See? It was respectful.
But pretty soon I was ringing the bell rather frequently.
Sure, it made my life way easier.
Maybe my voice was still hoarse from hurling,
but it wasn’t sore from yelling for help.
I would ring my bell in a sophisticated manner – ding!ding!ding! –
and whatta ya know, we were operating just like a real English Mansion.
Cups of tea. Small meals (which I would vomit up directly thereafter).
Hugs: Loving Hugs. Sympathetic hugs. You’re – not – alone hugs.
What was so wrong about it? The Crowley girls do it all the damn time for everything,
and they’re not even sick!!!
Then on Day 3, Dan came into our room looking very tense.
I think maybe I had just rang the bell to request some more Jolly Ranchers.
He didn’t say anything at first.
He held out his hand.
What? I asked.
“The bell,” he said. “Give me the bell.”
“But-” I began.
“Give it to me. GIVE ME THE BELL.”
And so I did.
It took me awhile to understand that Carson wasn’t going
to show up at my home and
bring me my early 20th century English breakfast pudding on a shiny silver tray.
But you know what? I got through it.
I’m a survivor.
And you know what else?
You’re a survivor too.
Oh I know that makes you angry.
You’re scrolling through your facebook,
looking at all your skinny friends
smiling their dumb smiles and wearing their summery dresses, going on trips to the beach
and family vacations to the lake.
Your girls are having their Girls Night Out.
And you’re thinking, “I hate you all.”
And then you lay your head on your pillow
which probably smells horrible because you’re laying your big ol barf head on it all the time
and you cry and cry and try to suppress a gag
but you can’t.
So now you’re crying and throwing up.
It’s like that scene from Bridesmaids when they’re all in the bathroom getting sick.
Except you ain’t got yo ‘maids with you.
But you know what, Buttercup?
I’m gonna teach you how to use the “gentle voice”.
Next time you’re throwing up in the bathroom
or on the stairs, or in your own bed…whatever, I know it’s hard to get to the lav in time..
I want you to pick your head up and say
in a brave whisper
“Hey you! Yes YOU! with the throwup on your cheekbones!
You’re a miracle. Did you know that?
Oh yes you are! Because guess why?? Because there’s a PERSON
inside you growing every day!! You are growing a BABY! You’re AMAZING! Look at you
just sitting up and vomiting near the commode like a trooper! You’re SO COURAGEOUS!
You never give up, do you?!?! No you don’t! No you don’t, you little tiny fighter!
You make Mohammed Ali look like a chump!
Has Mr Ali ever been with child? HAS HE?? HAS HEEEE?!?!
No he has NOT. You’re stronger than him. You’re the real boxer! You’re the real champion in the ring!!”
You’ll probably get sick some more right after this, don’t be surprised.
But then – even though you’re shaking – you will stand up on those little Bambi legs of yours
and you will wash your face
you will blink your eyes
and you will immediately lay back down on your bed in the fetal position
until you have to run back to the bathroom again.
And that’s okay.
But we both know it sucks.
I know you don’t feel like no boxer, honeychild.
But I’m still proud of you
and more importantly, God is with you. And He loves you
and He has a good plan for you and your baby.
You can trust Him.
I don’t know when this crappy phase is going to end
but I know it will, eventually.
And soon you’ll be enjoying yourself and eating normal food again.
It’s hard to even think about it when you’re really super sick
but you’re baby is SO worth everything you’re going through.
Hey! Don’t slap me!!
Geez. I was just about to loan you my bell.
For real, though….you really are amazing! You’re a beautiful mom
and you’re baby is super blessed to have a mom like you.
Now come here and let me give you a big ol hug!!!
|I knew that was going to happen.|
St Gianna Molla, patroness of physicians, mothers and unborn children, pray for us.