2007 was a fantastic year of change - We got married (HURRAY!) and promptly added to our family with our third little furry tyke, Baxter, a dachshund mix rescue. He joined Hanalei and Jack easily and has quickly become our most cuddle-friendly (aka "clingy") pup. With his sweet nature, playful demeanor, and huge puppy-dog eyes, it's hard to stay mad at him when he decides to bark up a storm outside. Oh well. And so the year for the five of us went by smoothly, happily, and memorably.
2008 started out just as fantastic. We rang in the New Year holiday with our very close friends, Danita and Jason in Overland Park, Kansas. What was supposed to be a trip to visit "Jason, Danita and Her Belly" before she was due to give birth in January, turned out to be a trip to visit "Jason, Danita and Their Baby", as she gave birth to Josiah Jason (the greatest godson ever!) in December. It was truly a miracle to see him, so tiny, so perfect. Mick ate more than his fair share of KC ribs, and Gen had a hard time saying goodbye to the family.
Being back in the Bay Area meant getting back to routine. Hit snooze for the 6th time, finally get out of bed, wake the dogs, let the dogs outside, contemplate getting back in bed, remember all the meetings at work, decide not to get back in bed, stand in front of closet for 12 minutes to pick out clothes, change, change again, groom, eat breakfast, brush teeth, check that dogs have food and water, scold dogs for barking, remind dogs to be good, grab keys, set home alarm, go to work, etc, etc.
This was all fine and good, until one day - Tuesday, 11 March - Genevieve wakes up with a scratchy throat and a persistent tummy ache.... Must be a cold, maybe the flu. Nausea isn't a new thing for me. I battle nausea on a constant, nearly day-to-day basis. Not sure why, but my stomach is just really sensitive to EVERYTHING. Smells, sights, stress, movement, being still, food, no food, you get the idea. Add to that my absolute fear of throwing up. It's called Emetophobia, I just learned about it, and I have it. Sure, I know no one actually likes to barf, but I have an irrational fear of it-- of me throwing up, of anyone around me throwing up, of seeing people on tv throwing up. It causes me very great anxiety. It's weird, it's unexplainable, it's totally true. I have the therapy bills to prove it.
So I stay home from work that day, and after eating some oatmeal, rice and cough drops, I begin to feel a little better. Mick was gone all week, visiting family and friends down in San Diego. I tell him about my day when we talk later that night and we chalk up the illness to "something going around."
Mick comes home that Saturday. Hurray! We spend Sunday afternoon running various errands and moseying about town. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but in one store, we are smelling different perfumes and my stomach does a somersault. I reach for my every-present Sprite to calm it. It calms. Must have been the new J.Lo scent.
Monday 17 March- Mick tries to drive me into work. This is not happening. We turn around in Mill Valley only after stopping to get a Sprite (praise to the Sprite manufacturers). Stomach getting angrier by the day. Once home, I crawl back into bed, feeling defeated. This "thing going around" is getting very annoying.
Tuesday 18 March- I successfully drive myself to work only to feel the need to drive myself right on back home an hour later. I call Mick, he makes an appointment for me to see the stomach doctor. I think various things at this point: stomach flu, ulcers, then I realize, wait, I'm late. Hmmm.
After some covert operations at work, I lock myself in a private bathroom and pee on a stick. There it is in plain English. I wait for the 'NOT' to appear. It does not. I wait some more. Nothing, except the very clear, very digital read-out that says 'PREGNANT'.
Tears of joy, nausea, uncomfortableness, anxiety, excitement and bewilderment fill my eyes. I go back to my office. I lock the door. I'm now crying. I call Mick. He is elated. I think he actually yelped. I am close to barfing. He'll have to drive me home. Again.
We arrive home. I pee on the second stick "just in case." 'PREGNANT'. I resign myself to bed. Mick excitedly calls every person in his phone. Plus emails. I call no one just yet, talking makes my stomach churn. Finally I manage to call my brothers ('That's great!' they say, 'A legitimate grandchild!') and my parents ('That's wonderful! Now take your vitamins!'). A few other close friends are called-- excitement all around. I'm exhausted and just want to sleep. And I do. A lot.
Fast forward to today, 29 March. I'm nearing my 7th week. We will hopefully hear the heart beat of our 'Little Grape' on Monday at our first true OB appointment, provided I can make it to the car. I know I'm supposed to be giddy with excitement, but it's been difficult, the nausea has been constant. It's like I'm on a boat and I can't get off. I have every nausea and vomiting remedy known to man at my disposal. Ginger capsules, ginger mints, B-6 & Unisom combo, lemon slices, lemon drops, accupressure bands (I will have permanent divots inside my wrists), Sprite (semi-flat, semi-warm), Rolaids, prescription Zofran (for around 3 in the morning when it gets so bad, I'm actually bawling), 14 boxes of saltines, white rice and a bell. The bell was Mick's idea- it's to call him when I'm too sick to move from bed and he's not in the room. I love that man.
I've been home from work for the last week. I try to work from home but it's tough. Plus it hasn't been officially announced so I can't say much to anyone. I fear having to clean barf from in between the keyboard. And I'm sure no one wants to hear me throw up in the middle of a conference call. Plus I'm fatigued. Like clockwork, I'm up every 2-3 hours needing to eat some crackers to quiet the raging symphony going on in my stomach. My sleep pattern has been completely rewritten. Mick says it's good practice for the future. Mmm-hmm, where's my bell?
So there it is. We're preggers and although I truly am excited inside, I'm not really loving life right now. My chest is so sore I feel like it got punched by some angry linebackers. And of course, I hope for the day when my nausea will subside enough for me to ride in cars again. I long for the day when I can eat something besides white rice, oatmeal and saltines. I ache for the day I'm not hovering around a trash can cause I just feel it coming. I dream of the day when I'm not so incredibly tired that I consider investing in a bed pan so I don't have to get up out of bed for anything. According to all the articles I've read (a million and counting), there's a good chance that day is coming in 5 weeks. You'd better believe I'm hoping, longing, aching and dreaming of that day.
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So have you actually thrown up? Or is it all talk, no show?
Congrats again to you and Mick, by the way =] I know I'd been nagging you to update your blog. This is a hell of an update!