Preggy Want a Cracker

Every year we get a new Christmas ornament.
Jace got Batman.  Brynlee got a little gymnast.  I got this one.
Spence couldn't have picked out a better one for me.

My friend Breah is expecting her second child the end of July.  Since her and I are sort of in this whole pregnancy thing together 99% of our conversations are consumed by the joy that is pregnancy.  Last conversation I asked for a reminder, “How many weeks are you again?” 

“9 weeks” she answered.  “I can’t believe it; it’s actually going really fast.”

I responded with an OH, HECK NO! 

And I meant it to.  This pregnancy has been everything but fast.  Uncomfortable?  Yes.  Nauseating? You betcha.  Totally and completely miserable?  Abso-freakin-lutely. 

But fast?  Uhhh, no.  Capital “N” capital “O”.  No, no, no.  As in, not in the least.

I told my doctor at one of my last appointments that I was falling completely apart with this pregnancy.  “Uncle, I’m calling uncle!” I told him.  He laughed and tried to comfort yet another crazy morning sickened pregnant lady.  It’s sort of what he’s paid for, I guess.

But the nurse – she agreed - completely falling apart.  {I really like my nurse, by the way.}  I mean she should know; she’d been the one on clean up duty after I threw up all over their brand new office at my first appointment.  And she was there when I tested positive for my fourth {FOURTH!} UTI since becoming pregnant.  And the abnormal blood work - she’d been the lucky one that called to tell me about that too.  And then when I had the allergic reaction to my amoxicillin and called into the office covered head to toe in an itchy rash, she’d taken my call.  “How many more times you doing to do this whole pregnancy thing, Kim?” she joked.  I ran to the bathroom because the question in and of itself brought on another bout of uncontrollable morning sickness.

Does it make me less of a mother if I despise pregnancy?  It’s a hypothetical question.  I don’t really want you to answer that. 

I mean, I’m aware that there are people out there that enjoy pregnancy.  They get that glow.  Their belly looks like the lady on the cover of Maternity Yoga.  They run a marathon at seven months.  And they go through the entire pregnancy without throwing up.

But not all pregnant women are created equal.  Some experience morning sickness. 

And then there are others of us that fall in the category of weeks and weeks of nonstop vomiting.  My doctor told me it has a name: Hyperemesis.  I don’t care what it’s called, it sucks.

My absolute favorite is when those people that LOOOOOVVVE pregnancy try to offer advice to us sorry puking souls that despise it.  “I hear ginger works” they say.  Or “Have you tried sucking on hard candy?”  “What about saltine crackers?”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to say “Saltine Crackers?  Get out!  That’s the answer.  Eating a couple crackers?  I’ve been vomiting for four months straight and all I needed to do was eat a flippin’ cracker?”

{For those of you that asked: I'm 16 weeks along.}