At first it was hit and miss, the nausea would come and go. And it was manageable.
By 6 1/2 weeks it was debilitating.
And at 7 weeks I was puking and couldn't get out of bed. That's when I couldn't remember why I thought I could do this again. And that's when I called the doc and begged for drugs. It went something like this:
(me struggling to talk through the tears) "I'm pregnant and I'm throwing up and my husband is a resident and I have two kids and I can't get out of bed"
They gave me the drugs.
But, the drugs did not turn out to be the miracle I was hoping for. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for'em. But all they really did was turn the pukes into dry heaves. Better than nothing but...
I'm almost 15 weeks
And so somewhere in the middle of 7 weeks and now I just gave up. No more trying to function.
My number one priority became, and remains:
Reduce the misery
Do whatever it takes to reduce the misery
And so I spend most of my time on the couch, wearing the same black sweats everyday
My kids spend their time watching tv, eating too much junk food, destroying the house, and otherwise running wild
Thus, my busy/exhausted/burnt out intern of a husband comes home to a non-functioning, depressed wife, 2 stir-crazy children, a wreck of a house, and no food.
Luckily for us, Paul spends his one day off a week cleaning, shopping, cooking, and taking the kids to the park.
And luckily for us I have wonderful friends who've invited my kids over for many a playdate so they can do normal kid stuff and I can get some peace and quiet.
And luckily, I had another ultrasound today (one where the baby actually looks like a human baby) and I remembered why we're doing all of this.
And I'm grateful.
Even if I did dry-heave in the aisles of Target last week.