The Flickering Light at the End of the Tunnel

Yesterday, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I felt some relief from the "gagg-y" part of the nausea, the part that feels acute as opposed to chronic.  I started thinking it was only a matter of weeks before I'd be able to do what moms do every day.

And, then, somehow, the part of my brain that exists to flood my body with hormones to ensure a healthy pregnancy got word that the rest of my brain (and GI tract) wasn't feeling tortured beyond belief, and it kicked it into high gear.  By the time nine o'clock rolled around, I was laying down while adding to the obsene amount of carbs I'd consumed since 3 p.m. in a desperate attempt to get enough relief to fall asleep.

The plus side, if there is one, was that I was able to sleep until 4 a.m. before waking up to go to the bathroom instead of getting up at midnight and 2 and 4 and 6.  As I noticed with my previous pregnancy, when the nausea hormones are at some of the most intolerable levels, it usually brings some nice exhaustion along with it.

This morning I hardly made it to the bathroom before I threw up uncontrollably for a few minutes (I don't know when or if you ever actually throw up in a controlled fashion, it just seemed like an appropriate adjective for what was going on--you'll have to trust me unless you'd like to watch).  Then, I stumbled into the living room, and Spencer grinned, and said, "Mommy!  Mommy!"

That's supposed to make this worth it.  And I suppose it does.


  1. Oh, friend. I'm so very sorry. Really and truly. I'm sending some prayers your way - that mentally you'll be able to withstand the torture.


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