Okay, maybe I spoke too soon about speaking too soon. Things are looking up!
I just won a different eBay auction for the same lovely diapers I had bid on a couple of days ago. Yay! The cloth diapering experiment begins... in 7 to 14 days, when the diapers arrive from their current location in Canada.
Also, for the past couple of weeks I have been working a few hours a night at the hospital that employs me. When dinner time rolls around, finding anything that even seems remotely edible in the cafeteria has been a challenge. Tonight, the options were: apricot chicken (too slimy) with rice (too over-cooked), meatloaf (there is no way... there is just. no. way.), and cream of asparagus soup (iffy, at best). Alas, I was hungry and needed to eat something that did not originate in a vending machine.
What did I choose? The soup. I bravely chose the soup... and prayed my stomach would be strong for me.
The outcome, I'm pleased to say, was much better than anticipated. Not only did my tummy accept the thick, green concoction without complaint, my taste buds actually enjoyed it as well!
Now, not only am I happily full (a very rare occurrence these days), but I am even craving some more of the slightly-gloppy stuff. Imagine that! Perhaps the morning/all-day sickness is wearing off after all!
Huzzah!
August 17, 2010
July 19, 2010
.day 61: it gets worse.
I am writing yesterday's entry today with good reason. Yesterday was a nightmare, for me and for my poor hubby. I was so nauseous and exhausted that I was in bed literally all day. I couldn't eat and sleeping was difficult because I was so hungry and queasy. Today is my brother's birthday (he's 16 - I am in shock) so we had plans for a birthday dinner at my mom's house last night to celebrate.
Upon arriving, the smell of bacon hit me like a ton of bricks. Breakfast for dinner was the birthday boy's meal of choice. I hate bacon on a good day and today it was a thousand times worse. I lay on the couch until halfway through the meal when I decided to make an effort to eat something.
I had half a gluten-free waffle and a bunch of sliced strawberries. I was able to sip some OJ, but passed up the decadent chocolate cake for dessert. See. I told you I was sick. I passed up cake. Chocolate cake, no less.
We headed downstairs to watch Surf's Up on the big, basement projector, but about 4 minutes in, I had to jump up from my cozy spot on the couch, hurdle several people camped out the floor, and run to the bathroom.
I puked. Though, for future reference, if you have to throw up, fresh strawberries ain't a bad way to go.
I figured the worst was over and curled up in the fetal position on the couch to enjoy the rest of the movie. I was wrong, by the way, about the worst being over.
We got home and were greeted by the scent of... gag... doggie diarrhea. I asked the Husband if he wanted help cleaning up, but he noticed I was pausing in between words to dry heave, so he said no. I asked if he was sure even as I bolted up the stairs to our bathroom. More puke.
I got Ladybug ready for bed as the Husband cleaned up the dog and his colossal mess (standard poodle diarrhea is no joke... seriously). After that, we settled in to go to bed. We awoke a few hours later to Oakley, the aforementioned poodle, barking like a mad dog. Round 2 of the doggie runs. The Husband refused my help again and went to clean up... again. Thankfully, it was warm outside, so he had left the dog in his kennel in the backyard. This, plus the garden hose, made cleanup much easier.
He came back to bed and we went back to sleep. A few hours later, Oakley started barking again. I figured it was my turn, so without waking the Husband, I trekked to the backyard to face yet another bout of icky, smelly dog mess. And it was icky and smelly.
When I did get back to bed, it was nearly 4 am. The rest of the night was spent with a vivid nightmare about the end of the world and zombies, in which Ben Affleck was a cop who was also a cannibal (and was voiced by Patrick Warburton, I might add) who was trying to help us escape the zombie infested area we were trapped in. He couldn't get too close to us, though, or he might have eaten us. Later a caveman was chasing us with his pack of trained dire wolves as we tried to get away in a stage coach (no horses, just a stage coach), all the while keeping an eye out for zombies, of course... Preggo dreams are weird...
Not exactly a restful evening...
Upon arriving, the smell of bacon hit me like a ton of bricks. Breakfast for dinner was the birthday boy's meal of choice. I hate bacon on a good day and today it was a thousand times worse. I lay on the couch until halfway through the meal when I decided to make an effort to eat something.
I had half a gluten-free waffle and a bunch of sliced strawberries. I was able to sip some OJ, but passed up the decadent chocolate cake for dessert. See. I told you I was sick. I passed up cake. Chocolate cake, no less.
We headed downstairs to watch Surf's Up on the big, basement projector, but about 4 minutes in, I had to jump up from my cozy spot on the couch, hurdle several people camped out the floor, and run to the bathroom.
I puked. Though, for future reference, if you have to throw up, fresh strawberries ain't a bad way to go.
I figured the worst was over and curled up in the fetal position on the couch to enjoy the rest of the movie. I was wrong, by the way, about the worst being over.
We got home and were greeted by the scent of... gag... doggie diarrhea. I asked the Husband if he wanted help cleaning up, but he noticed I was pausing in between words to dry heave, so he said no. I asked if he was sure even as I bolted up the stairs to our bathroom. More puke.
I got Ladybug ready for bed as the Husband cleaned up the dog and his colossal mess (standard poodle diarrhea is no joke... seriously). After that, we settled in to go to bed. We awoke a few hours later to Oakley, the aforementioned poodle, barking like a mad dog. Round 2 of the doggie runs. The Husband refused my help again and went to clean up... again. Thankfully, it was warm outside, so he had left the dog in his kennel in the backyard. This, plus the garden hose, made cleanup much easier.
He came back to bed and we went back to sleep. A few hours later, Oakley started barking again. I figured it was my turn, so without waking the Husband, I trekked to the backyard to face yet another bout of icky, smelly dog mess. And it was icky and smelly.
When I did get back to bed, it was nearly 4 am. The rest of the night was spent with a vivid nightmare about the end of the world and zombies, in which Ben Affleck was a cop who was also a cannibal (and was voiced by Patrick Warburton, I might add) who was trying to help us escape the zombie infested area we were trapped in. He couldn't get too close to us, though, or he might have eaten us. Later a caveman was chasing us with his pack of trained dire wolves as we tried to get away in a stage coach (no horses, just a stage coach), all the while keeping an eye out for zombies, of course... Preggo dreams are weird...
Not exactly a restful evening...
July 10, 2010
.day 53: sick.
Thank goodness for husbands. Today I could hardly get my head off the pillow, so the Husband had to step in and take care of Ladybug for most of the day. I was exhausted and nauseous and hungry but unable to eat a thing.
Seriously, just about everything I consider eating these days is about as appetizing as a fresh "doggy doodle." Odd that spaghetti sauce and dog droppings elicit the same response from me these days, ah, but such is the fate of those in the first trimester.
I'm not as sick as I was with Ladybug, where I was literally throwing up at least once and hour and couldn't keep a thing down.
Still, feeling perpetually queasy is no picnic, so every once and while I feel the need to have a little pity party. However, I really am trying to thank my lucky stars that it hasn't been as bad this time around... so far.
Seriously, just about everything I consider eating these days is about as appetizing as a fresh "doggy doodle." Odd that spaghetti sauce and dog droppings elicit the same response from me these days, ah, but such is the fate of those in the first trimester.
I'm not as sick as I was with Ladybug, where I was literally throwing up at least once and hour and couldn't keep a thing down.
Still, feeling perpetually queasy is no picnic, so every once and while I feel the need to have a little pity party. However, I really am trying to thank my lucky stars that it hasn't been as bad this time around... so far.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
