Today, J and three of our amazing friends are painting our kitchen, a hallway, and the will.be.nursery (the nursery!). They are all lovely people for lending a hand, and I can’t wait to see those spaces in their new, vibrant colors. Because paint fumes aren’t so great for babies.in.the.making, I’m not helping, which makes me sad because I love a painting party (the music, the dancing, the “how did you get paint there?” of it all). I’m also not staying at home tonight, which makes me sad for a few reasons, not the least of which is that I hate throwing up anywhere except my own toilet. Two friends offered to let us crash with them tonight, but the idea of being sick in their space was too awful to me, so J lovingly offered to get us a hotel room. I found an affordable one on-line last night, but when I got there to check in (and commence the throwing up marathon that is today), I learned that they had just painted and replaced carpet in the rooms (thus paint fumes with the added bonus of carpet glue). Oh, irony. So I headed across town to our favorite hotel – where all of our wedding guests stayed this time last year – but it was way too expensive. J said to just take it, but I hate wasting money, so I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I burst into tears in the lobby of said hotel. Just stood there crying for awhile. Then I made my way to a more moderately priced place across town. Affordable. Clean. A toilet that holds up. What more could a lady in her first trimester hope for?
Now I’m curled up with an empty stomach and HGTV (a real luxury, as we don’t have television at home). I would normally indulge in the food channel, but not right now. It’s funny how quickly something becomes normal. I’m starting to forget that I ever enjoyed food. That it ever both looked good and settled well. Now it rarely does both, and it often does neither. I have hopes that this will pass soon. We are, after all, only a week away from the end of this trimester. Our dear friend A was sick for all 40 weeks of both of her pregnancies, but I can’t think about that. I’m supposed to take dinner to the troops at the house in a few hours, but I can’t think about that either. I love being pregnant with Baby G, but that, I have learned, does not mean I’m having fun.
Exciting post-script: Today, I threw up so hard I strained the muscles under my tongue.
Even more exciting post-post-script: Later, I threw up so hard I peed my pants.
And one more: Still later, I threw up so hard I projectile vomited from my nose, and then laid on the hotel bathroom floor for awhile. If you know my usual level of germ phobia, you know that this last fact is an ugly one.
Nota Bene: On a less disgusting note, my dear friends A and M stayed with me tonight while J did some more work at the house. They fed me ice chips and Gatorade and braved the possibility that this is a stomach flu in addition to morning sickness. This last possibility was made more likely by the fact that I’m running a 100.2 degree fever and having cold chills. I’m not in love with this day, but I am in love with my friends, who distracted me for hours by telling stories, being loving, making me smile, and leaving only at around 11pm, when J returned. It sucks to be sick, but there’s nothing like the feeling of being loved and supported through your yuckiest moments. Big love to my cheerleading friends. Your generosity is astounding.