A few weeks ago, when I was in the throws of morning sickness hell, I turned to John and said, "The worst thing about the first trimester is the fact that I can't complain about it on Facebook."
John looked at me and asked, "Really, that's the worst thing?"
To which I replied, "Well, no, the worst thing is morning sickness. But it would make me feel a lot better if I could bitch about it publicly."
Morning sickness is a big, fat lie. Because if you've had it, you know that "morning" really doesn't come into play. It should be called "all-day nausea," or maybe "the pregnancy plague," because it's like having the damn stomach flu for two months (or longer for some people; I can't even fathom what it's like for the women who have hyperemesis gravidarum - at least that has a suitably serious title). If you're extra super lucky like me, it gets worse as the day progresses, so that you end up running for the toilet at 1 a.m. Yay!
I had morning sickness with Jack, and it sucked royally. But this time has been way worse. At least last time I could go to Trader Joe's and buy the few things that appealed to me (I remember one bizarre trip where I came home with a can of Spaghetti-O's, a box of lime popsicles, and a cantaloupe). Here, though, my pickings are slim. I craved the same sorts of things: anything cold and refreshing or doughy and tomato-y, but it was much more difficult to procure them. I also have a serious aversion to garlic and roasting vegetables, which I can't recall having last time (although I don't recall John being obsessed with those things four years ago, either).
I also don't remember having dysgeusia last time, or what I like to call bad-taste-in-mouth-at-all-times disease. Nothing I ate could get rid of it. I read somewhere that vinegary foods like pickles help (I wonder if that's where the cliche of pregnant women being obsessed with pickles comes from...), but wouldn't you know it, we didn't have any freaking pickles. I can't blame Russia for that, at least. We just didn't have any. And of course, with all-day nausea comes fatigue, weight loss, and a general inability to function, which is WAY worse when you have another kid to take care of.
But perhaps the actual worst thing about the first trimester is that men don't understand morning sickness at all. I get it, it's hard to fathom that brushing your teeth or swallowing a pill can actually cause someone to vomit, but I'm not sure how much proof John needed. Apparently more, because he has been shoving vitamins and supplements at me like a dealer. I even found proof online that it's okay to eat whatever you can stomach during the first trimester, but John was undeterred in his quest to get me to drink green smoothies and take eight spirulina tablets a day. And despite me having to hide out in our bedroom every time he roasted anything, he persisted in his nightly broccoli and brussel sprouts (*vomit*) routine.
Fortunately, I'm finally feeling better. Last week I was able to eat fairly normally, and this week my appetite is really kicking in. Which is great, considering I'll be in America on Friday. First stop, Chicago for Ann Sather cinnamon rolls, followed by Baked and Wired in DC (I was too sick for cupcakes the last time I was there - can you even imagine?), whatever is good in Rhode Island, bagels with tempeh bacon and cream cheese in Norfolk, an early Thanksgiving in Miami, and all the guacamole and virgin margaritas I can handle in Cancun. Second trimester, here I come!