Legend has it that St. Lawrence was slowly burned to death on a hot gridiron for his faith. He was so holy that while he burned on one side he cheerfully quipped to his tormentors, “You can turn me over now. I’m done on this side.”
I have come to the conclusion that I am not that holy yet. This “morning sickness” has me wanting to crawl into a dark recess and wait for the end. But Scott gently reminded me that the morning sickness excuse can only go so far, and the blog must go on!
Yes, I realize that we have advanced to fancy, legitimate names for morning sickness now like “the nausea and vomiting of pregnancy” and for the severe forms, “hyperemesis gravidarum,” but ain’t nobody got time to be writing those cumbersome new terms out over and over again for an entire blog post. Who thought of those impossible terms anyway? I sure wasn’t given a vote. It’s just plain inconsiderate. A sick pregnant mama can barely get out the simple phrase, “I have morning sickness” without having to run to the toilet halfway through it because talking only makes it worse.
I have been largely absent from my social media because scrolling, particularly on Instagram and Pinterest, makes me incredibly dizzy. Don’t get too relieved, because I’m sure once I start feeling better, I will start hogging your feed once again.
Mornings and nights are the worst times for me, and usually the times when I require medication to even keep water down. The rest of the day, I feel relatively human as long as I keep eating and don’t let myself get in the least bit hungry. I would be the only person to actually gain weight during severe morning sickness. Just my luck!
We have been surviving thanks to my saintly husband and family members, and my mother’s helper I have come weekly to help me with the girls. Thank the heavens for college summer break! It came at a very opportune time for me. We are going to all cry when our helper has to go back to college in the fall.
Ruth these days likes to play “sick mom on the couch,” complete with blanket and lots of moaning. I’m pretty sure I’m not doing much moaning, but I could be wrong. Anyway, it’s a vast improvement from when I was pregnant with Rhea and she used to pretend to be sick mom throwing up in the potty.
According to Ruth and Rose, if it’s a girl, it’s twins (it’s not twins) who are going to be named Sunna and Moona. If it’s a boy, they will name him George. Apparently boys don’t inspire much imagination.
The return of the grainy OB’s office mirror bumpdate pics! 13 weeks! (I think.) And no, that is not toilet paper on my shoe, it is a smudge on the mirror. But have no fear, I’m sure I will reach that level of hot mess toward the end of this pregnancy.