This past week marked my fourth month of pregnancy. Those supposed, glorious "you'll feel WONDERFUL, dance on the CLOUDS, be back to your OLD SELF" months.
HMPF.
I must say, I'm not sad to see the first 3 months gone. I felt sick, all day, everyday, 7 days a week for those 3 months (the cruelest practical joke ever - naming it "morning sickness"). I threw up some, but not everyday. I just felt like it everyday (all day, non-stop, 7 days a week). And, believe me, I would've much rather thrown up than lived with the feeling that I was going to throw up (non-stop, all day, everyday...you get the point).
I was waiting for that magic button of 4 months - a barrage of promises like "Oooo, you'll get all of your energy back at 4 months, just like magic!" or "You'll feel MUCH better once you get out of your first trimester" or "Wait 'til the second trimester, you'll feel like your old self again!"
LIES. ALL LIES I TELL YOU.
OK, the regaining energy was PARTIALLY true, but the rest? COMPLETE LIES.
I'm in the magical second trimester - the one that is supposed to have all the rainbows and dancing unicorns and cotton candy? Guess what? It ain't gettin' much better. The all day, every day feeling of nausea HAS subsided, but in it's place is the actual puking now (yep, that thing I wished for in the first trimester). Except, it's happening when I'm asleep. I feel sick when I'm falling asleep, I finally get to sleep, and then I throw up...a little...in my mouth. Which then leads to a nice 20 minutes to 1 hour of filling toilet bowl after toilet bowl of throat burning, gut wrenching stomach acid. (MMMMM) I mean, how much will be actual food when your dinner consisted of some saltines with a little bit of plain cream cheese spread on them?
My husband was super supportive this weekend when he held up the baby magazine he was reading from the doctor and said, "you know, it says here that you moms should feel really good at this point in the pregnancy" as he gave me that judgemental is this all just a ploy to get attention look. I would like to tell you my response, but the laser beams from my eyes disintegrated him before the conversation could move further. So sorry.
So, what do I do? No, NOT call my doctor. I talk to other moms because, hey, that's what all that handy pre-baby literature tells you to do - seek out other moms for "support" - emphasis on SUPPORT.
So I tell my friend (name withheld to protect the innocent) what was happening with the throwing-up-a-little-in-my-mouth-thing-at-night-leading-to-bile-puking. Her response? [insert weird face] "Oh, I've never heard of such a thing."
HM.
So, I go for door #2. A regular customer at the store who has become a friend and is a former nurse. I go through the throwing-up-a-little-in-my-mouth-thing-at-night-leading-to-bile-puking story. Her response? [insert revulsion] "EW. I've never in all my medical years heard of THAT."
HM.
So much for "mommy" support.
(Perhaps I'll just talk to my doctor about it).
Now, here's my confusion: How big is a baby at 10 months? 20 pounds? 30 pounds? Less? More? I have no idea, but why the heck were the parents stuffing this child under the removable changing table on top? According to the story, the baby sadly strangled himself on the loop of the strap that hangs down from this changing table. HELLLOOOO?!?!
