Alright. So we’re on the path to recovery. Sushi’s been eaten, expanded plans for summertime trips discussed, more hugs, and a few more tears. But there’s still one thing that’s bothering me (besides the fact that my pants are still too tight): morning sickness. OK, I’m not sick anymore, but for a few months there, it was especially brutal, and, when I’m not feeling sad, I feel annoyed that I had to go through all that for, well, nothing. There were days when all I did was hang out in the bathroom. I banned sickly sweet baby yogurt from the house, and had to keep Jonas’ beloved bananas out on the back porch. I walked around holding half a lemon underneath my nose. And, I had to threaten my husband with violence to get him to stop talking about smells.
I have an amazing husband. But, despite all of his good qualities, there’s just one thing he doesn’t get: morning sickness.
He tried and, in many ways, was incredibly helpful – he kept me supplied with crackers and ginger ale, and made me take naps. But when I’d say to him, “Stop talking,” which was about all I could gasp out, if I wanted to keep the Saltines in my stomach, to try to cut off a story about the bad chili made by one of the guys at the fire station, or the story of the smell in the nursing home he’d visited, he’d take, “Stop talking,” to mean, “Talk faster.”
This talking/snapping/puking cycle led to some arguments, as you can imagine. But, I think, he now knows what to avoid: no talking about smells, or bodily fluids, injuries, or meat or spices or strange foods or bugs eaten on television shows or, horror of horrors, those nasty condiment mixing concoctions that middle school kids create and dare their friends to eat. Not that he discussed that last one, but no one should ever mention that around a nauseous pregnant woman. Never.
Just as I figured out how to manage the morning sickness – a combination of avoiding discussions about food, carrying lemon slices everywhere, acupuncture, grapefruit, miso soup, too many crackers, and medicine – it went away. I guess I’ll just have a much bigger bag of tricks for the next time around.
One thing we couldn’t avoid talking about, though, and one of the reasons that pregnancy gets harder when you’ve got children in the house, is the sickness, both little and big, of the kids we’re blessed to have living in our house. It’s hard enough to get through a day without puking when your nose is so sensitive it can detect seafood from a mile away, let alone when you’ve got to change a few diapers or clean up a kid’s (or cat’s) puke.
Unfortunately, this weak stomach stuff is a family disease. Just this weekend, on the way back from a birthday party in a neighboring town, Jonas got car sick. Then, just as we arrived home, Axel tossed his cookies on the door step.
As I cleaned up the boys, house, and car, I was thankful that, this time at least, it didn’t all devolve into a whole family puke fest.