Hurrrrrrrrrk!

Let me preface this post by saying: If you have a sensitive stomach, turn back now. Go look at cute pictures of fuzzy widdwe anmnimals doing anerable things.

The rest of you, join me after the jump.

Other than a boatload o' positive pregnancy tests, lotsa heartburn, cravings for protein, and, erm, well, as Monty Python would say it, "Huge tracts of land," I didn't feel pregnant yet. Not overly exhausted, no nausea, etc. I thought, "If this is pregnancy, this is gonna be EASY. Kid, we'll make a deal: If I don't puke the entire pregnancy, you get a pony. A stuffed pony, but hey, pony pony pony!"


This is known as ironic foreshadowing.

Fast forward three weeks later. Over the course of a few days, sugary foods started to make me feel a little off, so I stopped eating cookies & popsicles. Then fruit started to make the stomach flip over. Okay, no fruit.

Then I made chicken enchiladas for dinner one night, and there were leftovers. The next night, we polished 'em off. About two hours later, it began. And it was not pretty. Dave was very sweet about it, found me a fleece blanket to sit on so I wouldn't be on the cold bathroom floor, brought me water, etc.

Did I mention that I hate puking more than anything else in the world? 'Cause I do.

For the next few days, it was like being a supermodel - I didn't want anything but crackers and ginger ale and the thought of food made me run for the loo. I had to force myself to drink Gatorade to get a few electrolytes into my system. I also had to call in sick, since even getting up off the bathroom floor took more energy than I had. I had visions of the next seven months, being a slave to hyperemesis gravidarum.

Finally, I called my doctor's office and begged for something, ANYTHING. I had to get back to work. Daytime TV sucks. I wanted to eat food again.

Zofran = my savior. It took about a week to fully kick in, a week spent forcing myself to nibble at very very plain food I didn't want all day just to keep something in my stomach, sitting at my cubicle at work breaking out into cold sweats and counting down the hours until I could take the next pill. As someone who (as my waistline clearly attests) loves food, hating the mere thought of food and having to force myself to eat was an unwelcome experience. I lost around 10 pounds over the course of two weeks, via a diet I don't recommend.

NOW I felt pregnant. And I don't think I'll be eating enchiladas again for a very, very, very long time.