My morning sickness misery – an analogy!

This is how I explain morning sickness to my male or never-been-pregnant friends…

Imagine that you went drinking last night… heavily.  We’re not talking beer here; we’re talking your three favorite men – Jose, Jack, and Jim (Beam, that is).  So you closed the bar down with your bestest friends, maybe managed to keep your clothes on, made your way home through the kindness of a friend, and crashed into bed where you slept through your alarm clock and woke up at 9AM – late for work.

You roll over and immediately realize that something just doesn’t feel right, especially with your stomach.  The very thought of eating something (even a cracker) makes you break out into a cold sweat and roils your stomach into a nauseous ball. You know that you’ll feel worse if you don’t eat so you try something good – carbohydrates!  Crackers, plain waffles, anything to get *something* on that queasy pit in your midsection.

Good.. it stays down and you start to feel ok.  You may be able to lick this thing after all!  On your way to work you realize that you need gas so you stop at the local station to fill up.  As soon as the pump starts glugging out overpriced gasoline you get the first whiff of noxious gas fumes which make you begin dry heaving over the filling station’s trash can. 

Right before lunch when your stomach usually starts to growl it instead gets that greasy nasty ‘i-don’t-wanna-eat-anything’ feeling and lunch sounds absolutely unappetizing.  But because you don’t your co-workers (or your boss!) to know that you were out boozing it up the night before you force yourself to go out to eat with them to a place of their choice and pray that it’s not the Chinese buffet.

Once you’re out, you load up on the water to keep yourself hydrated and hopefully to get that icky feeling to go away – no dice.  At the restaurant you order something small – just enough to get you through the meal without looking suspicious – and try not to gag as your co-workers plow through all you can eat wings at the local joint.  Even the very THOUGHT of chicken makes you want to be violently ill. 

Once you’re away from the smorgasord of disgusting smells, that roiling in your stomach eases somewhat and the afternoon passes fairly regularly.  You head home from work with the windows rolled down, belting out ‘Girls Girls Girls’ by Motley Crue and are in great spirits even as you navigate rush hour traffic.

However, the dreaded dinner hour arrives and with that, a decision to make.  You can’t stand the thought of touching raw food, being able to handle all the smells of food cooking, and debate ordering a pizza just to get the pain over with.  However, you decide to eat something healthy…  and end up gagging over the broccoli that just sounded a few minutes ago sounded absolutely awesome.  In fact, you can’t even tolerate having the dish of green remains anywhere NEAR you so you make your roommate (or significant other) dispose of the carcass.

An hour later you feel a little more settled and all of a sudden, your body kicks in with an intensely powerful craving for… OREOS AND MILK!  Not just an ordinary, “gee, I’d like some Oreos and maybe some milk” feeling but “GottaHaveOreosandGottaHave’EmNOWWWWWW” type demand.  It’s hard to resist so you relent, knowing all the while that it will just make you feel gross.

Pretty soon you recover and pass out on the sofa around 8:30PM – exhausted from doing just your regular day’s activities.  You wake up around 10, crawl up to bed, and set your alarm for the next morning.  However, you can’t get comfortable on your side because you’re normally a back or stomach sleeper.  When you finally fall asleep your body awakens you at 3AM having to use the restroom.  You navigate the long hallway (funny how it seems shorter in the daylight), sneak into the bathroom, and then make the tiresome journey back to bed.

Wake up 5 minutes before your alarm goes off and still have that hungover gross stomach feeling that you had yesterday.  Repeat for the next 8 weeks.

Welcome to my world.

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