Light at the End of the Tunnel
I’m finally nearing the end of the first trimester. The nausea has finally abated for the time being. The fear of food however remains. I don’t want to call it fear rather that loathing. I loathe having to eat food. It looks 85% of the time like a disgusting ball of crap. I would sooner get my nutrition from a liquid diet than have to eat the nasty pile of food that is placed in front of me. I look at people’s posts of food, I think to myself, ‘Man I wish I could stand to eat something like that.’ But again when faced with the actual plate of nutrition, I for the most part stare at it and wonder how much of this can I eat before I feel the urge to yack? There ladies and gentlemen is the biggest damper on my will to eat… the feeling that I will soon upchuck all of the mediocre food I just forced down my throat.
The other day, we went to Chik-fil-A because I thought that I wanted a chicken sandwich and a drink. So I proceed to eat about 1/4 of it on our way to the store. When we get there I have my husband drop me off at the front because well I had that gaggy feeling and the sour feeling in my stomach. I walk calmly to the bathroom and hope that I don’t encounter a line. I find my way to the furthest stall away from the door and proceed to get into the customary position. Hands on the toilet bowl, head down and mouth open and out comes all the food I had just eaten. I nearly choked myself in the process. I felt like one of those playdough toys that you use to squeeze out the stuff to make a specific shape. Except out of my mouth. When I walked in, the bathroom was bustling with people… when I was done it was empty and quiet. I guess my wretching was enough to scare everyone out of there in a hurry. Ah, yes the joys of the first trimester.
I can honestly say that with my first pregnancy, I had become accustomed to the feeling of euphoria post yack attack. The calm your stomach feels after you’ve voided it of all irritants. While I had hyperemesis gravidarum with my first child. This one I mostly just have the nausea and I find myself wishing for the eventual yack attack because I know if I do it then my stomach will feel better and I can eat something without fear. This time around I’ve only puked a handful of times in comparison to my first pregnancy. I complain a lot about the constant sour feeling in my stomach, but at least I’m not living in the restroom.
So, in conclusion. The end of the first trimester is finally leading towards a relief of the constant state of nausea, which I am absolutely thankful for. I just have to think about what in the hell I’m going to do after the baby is born.