It hit
This picture has nothing to do with this post except for serving as a reminder for why I'm doing what I'm doing. I just love them.I genuinely was hopeful that I'd be feeling better this pregnancy, but no such luck. This has been the LONGEST week of my life. (Or at least the longest week since I was newly pregnant last time.) Turns out, being sick is the pits, and every day, it continues to get worse.
This time, it actually hit a few days before my six week mark, but really mild. I just felt a little tired and would get waves of nausea. But nothing too serious. On my drive home from Vegas last friday night, I was on the phone with Justin's mom. She asked how I was feeling, and I said, "I'm fine. If this is how bad it gets, it will be totally manageable." As soon as I said it, I remembered how I had said that same exact phrase a few days before all hell broke loose with Macy's pregnancy.
And break loose, it did. I feel awful. Like, so awful. The nausea is overwhelming and bombards me EVERY SINGLE FREAKING SECOND of the day.
Two days ago, as I was laying Macy down for a nap, something happened to my back. It progressively got worse over the next couple of hours until I found myself completely stuck in my bed. I literally couldn't get up. When Justin finally got home from work, he tried to lift me, and I burst into tears from how painful it was. A couple hours later, I was able to get up, but walking around like a 90 year old woman.
The next morning, still getting sharp pains in my back every time I moved, I found myself literally hugging the base of the toilet trying to brace myself every time I threw up. The vomiting was awful, but the back pain is what did me in. Each time I heaved, my back spasmed. Macy watched the whole thing (and later tried to copy me). I heard Charlie call from the other room, "Are you throwing up? That's gross." I called Justin crying.
This morning, after my a.m. vomit party, I layed in bed for a few hours. I've found that if I hold really still, the nausea is much more bearable. My next door neighbor is wonderful, and had the kids over to play for a while so I could sleep. When they got home, they were hungry, so I asked Charlie to make all three of them lunch. He made peanut butter and honey sandwiches, chips and cheese, carrots with ranch, and watermelon. He is awesome.
However, he is still seven. And cleans up like a seven year old. (Translated, he doesn't.) But I can't blame him at all. He was doing the best job entertaining Dylan and Macy and making sure they were happy and safe.
To me, there's a difference between an, "oh, she must be really sick" dirty house and an "oh, we must call child protective services" dirty house. Today, my house was the latter.
The first time I actually walked into the kitchen was this afternoon when Charlie's friend's mom came to pick him up for a playdate. I was HORRIFIED to see what I saw. Kitchen chairs had been knocked over, watermelon was smashed into the floor, blankets and dishes were everywhere, along with all the food preparation items and the food they didn't eat sprinkled about the kitchen. There were toys and pacifiers all over. The kicker was toothbrushes. Apparantly the three kids had decided to brush their teeth and then drop the toothbrushes wherever they were standing. I also have not mentioned that I had not brushed my teeth or my hair, and was still in my pajamas as I answered the door. I can only imagine what this poor woman thought.
As soon as she left, I was completely mortified and did my best to pick up. (TMI, but using my feet because it's still too painful in my back to bend over. I can only imagine how funny I must have looked.) Then I had to eat a frozen burrito and rest. Then I was able to take a shower and put on clean pajamas. And then rest some more.
But, with all that complaining, I do need to offer praise. Four seperate friends have brought food over for my family. And that's just been in the last week. I haven't asked for any help, yet it just shows up. I feel so lucky to have such great women around me.
And as much as I LOATHE every single second of being pregnant, it is SO SO SO worth the prize I get at the end. Only 33 more weeks.
This time, it actually hit a few days before my six week mark, but really mild. I just felt a little tired and would get waves of nausea. But nothing too serious. On my drive home from Vegas last friday night, I was on the phone with Justin's mom. She asked how I was feeling, and I said, "I'm fine. If this is how bad it gets, it will be totally manageable." As soon as I said it, I remembered how I had said that same exact phrase a few days before all hell broke loose with Macy's pregnancy.
And break loose, it did. I feel awful. Like, so awful. The nausea is overwhelming and bombards me EVERY SINGLE FREAKING SECOND of the day.
Two days ago, as I was laying Macy down for a nap, something happened to my back. It progressively got worse over the next couple of hours until I found myself completely stuck in my bed. I literally couldn't get up. When Justin finally got home from work, he tried to lift me, and I burst into tears from how painful it was. A couple hours later, I was able to get up, but walking around like a 90 year old woman.
The next morning, still getting sharp pains in my back every time I moved, I found myself literally hugging the base of the toilet trying to brace myself every time I threw up. The vomiting was awful, but the back pain is what did me in. Each time I heaved, my back spasmed. Macy watched the whole thing (and later tried to copy me). I heard Charlie call from the other room, "Are you throwing up? That's gross." I called Justin crying.
This morning, after my a.m. vomit party, I layed in bed for a few hours. I've found that if I hold really still, the nausea is much more bearable. My next door neighbor is wonderful, and had the kids over to play for a while so I could sleep. When they got home, they were hungry, so I asked Charlie to make all three of them lunch. He made peanut butter and honey sandwiches, chips and cheese, carrots with ranch, and watermelon. He is awesome.
However, he is still seven. And cleans up like a seven year old. (Translated, he doesn't.) But I can't blame him at all. He was doing the best job entertaining Dylan and Macy and making sure they were happy and safe.
To me, there's a difference between an, "oh, she must be really sick" dirty house and an "oh, we must call child protective services" dirty house. Today, my house was the latter.
The first time I actually walked into the kitchen was this afternoon when Charlie's friend's mom came to pick him up for a playdate. I was HORRIFIED to see what I saw. Kitchen chairs had been knocked over, watermelon was smashed into the floor, blankets and dishes were everywhere, along with all the food preparation items and the food they didn't eat sprinkled about the kitchen. There were toys and pacifiers all over. The kicker was toothbrushes. Apparantly the three kids had decided to brush their teeth and then drop the toothbrushes wherever they were standing. I also have not mentioned that I had not brushed my teeth or my hair, and was still in my pajamas as I answered the door. I can only imagine what this poor woman thought.
As soon as she left, I was completely mortified and did my best to pick up. (TMI, but using my feet because it's still too painful in my back to bend over. I can only imagine how funny I must have looked.) Then I had to eat a frozen burrito and rest. Then I was able to take a shower and put on clean pajamas. And then rest some more.
But, with all that complaining, I do need to offer praise. Four seperate friends have brought food over for my family. And that's just been in the last week. I haven't asked for any help, yet it just shows up. I feel so lucky to have such great women around me.
And as much as I LOATHE every single second of being pregnant, it is SO SO SO worth the prize I get at the end. Only 33 more weeks.
4 comments:
Oh Josie, you have such a great attitude about it all. You are my hero! Hang in there.
First off, congratulations! Second, I don't know how you do it being that sick! Does it last the whole pregnancy? And third, thank goodness for the wonderful women who've come to help; I hope they keep it up :) Good luck!
Your post brings back some traumatic memories. There's no positive spin to a never-ending pukefest, but at least you know there is a light/snuggly baby at the end of the tunnel. It's just such a long tunnel, huh?
my eyes just welled up with tears reading this.
i've been there. the best part is that you DO have a "release date"...the baby's due date. no matter how bad it gets the clock will not stop. that due date will come. love you. wish I was your neighbor right now more than ever. xoxo
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