I'm not sure if it was taking vitamins right before bed or what, but when I laid down at 9:00, I knew I was in trouble. Dearest knew it too, he could tell from my face, but I was determined to muscle through it and fall asleep, hoping I would be right as rain when I woke up. Not to be. I wound up praying to the porcelain god (for the first time this pregnancy) at about 9:04. Yucky. I sent Dan a text (modern equivalent of ringing a bell) and he came up. Of course I was a teary, sniffling, self-pitying mess, but he was so sweet, rubbing my back and asking if he could get me anything. He's great. It is only the second time in our nearly 6 year relationship that I have thrown up. The first time I was in the hospital so he was spared witnessing it.
Something about not feeling good in this pregnancy really makes me want my mom. I guess it's just one of those things...I'm pregnant and freaked out and usually so very healthy, and I just don't know HOW to feel miserable all of the time. Feeling so rotten the other night, I wanted to be curled up on the couch under that brown and orange crocheted blanket that we had when I was little, with Sesame Street on the TV and some 7-Up with a straw in it by my side, and my mom coming in every few minutes to check on me. I suppose the truth is this...I'm embarrassed by feeling rotten. I know Dearest is not going to pass judgement, but I want so badly for this to be a breeze, to walk away from it and say, "I was pregnant with twins and it was no problem!" Throwing up made me feel defeated. That's what brought on the tears more than anything. I felt like I lost, and I wanted my mom.
Sounds like a whiny little kid, doesn't it? And I'm about to be the mom in this household? How is that possible?