I wrote this during the first trimester as part of my coping mechanism after weeks of discouraging, frustrating "morning" sickness...also know as "all-day-long exhaustion and extreme nausea with wild and irrational mood swings". It's a lot more amusing to me now than it was at the time. But that's life, right? Don't worry, I'm feeling great these days. And seem to have stabilized. 2nd trimester has been good to me. Although I still gag occasionally. And cry easily. But there's no way to prove if those two things are byproducts of the pregnancy or not...
Listen, being pregnant isn't easy (and anyone who has ever been pregnant and had any symptoms will tell you this, in detail. I think it's actually another pregnancy symptom: must share miserable details with any and everyone). Let me just give you a glimpse into a day in the life of 1st trimester pregnancy at our house. (Go ahead and send Z a care package, he deserves it and probably needs extra nutrition and/or treats).
Authors note: every instance of "cry a little bit" can be substituted with "gagged" without altering the integrity of this post in any way.
Wake up. *blink blink* Don't move. We need to assess the situation. How bad does the head hurt? Are we nauseous? Move slowly...
Wander downstairs. Take a deep breath, hold, dart into kitchen, grab something ANYTHING that might sound good. This may be the only time I can eat today, so must make it count. Yogurt? Banana? Spaghetti? Grapes and refried beans? Yikes yikes yikes. Run out of kitchen. Exhale. The kitchen is a trigger zone for morning sickness. I have avoided it like the plague. I'm not sure what Z has been eating. I hope he has been eating. I should check on this. But talking about food is also a trigger so...nope.
Sit down to work. Conference call. Why is everyone so mean? IS everyone so mean? Or am I just being sensitive? Cry a little bit. Thank God for the mute button. Consider deleting all emails to solve every problem.
Feeling ok. Will probably take a shower during my lunch break. This will be the greatest accomplishment of my day. Think about trying to go to the store...gauge body's reaction to thinking about walking into a building full of food. Immediately reject idea. Immediately.
FaceTime call with mom later...should probably put on some makeup. Exertion proves to be too much. End up back in bed. Takes 15 minutes for world to stop spinning. Lay in bed for a bit. Recover. Makeup will remain half done. This still counts. Award self full credit for effort and ambition. Today was successful.
Exhaustion sets in, it must be at LEAST 5:30pm. Check clock. 1:45pm. Way too early for bed. Is it? It is. It probably is.
Olive being bad. I yell at her, her feelings are hurt, she gives me sad eyes. Cry a little a bit, distressed. Will definitely be the worst mom ever. Cry some more. Hug Olive until she squirms away, annoyed. That feels right. Maybe will not be World's Worst Mom after all.
Think "how do people handle early pregnancy when they already have toddlers?!". Cry a little bit. Will definitely be an unfit mother for all of my yet-to-exist children. Cannot function.
Sad/sweet/funny moment happens on TV. Cry a little bit. I don't even watch this show nor am I invested in or attached to any of the characters. I'm angry that I cried. Who can I blame for this? Will write strongly worded letter once blame placement can be determined.
Decide that the only thing that I can eat and sounds delicious is a mushroom swiss burger from Chili's. Am stuck in a German wasteland, an uncivilized barbaric country with no Chili's. Cannot believe I have survived here so long. Probably won't ever recover from this. Cry a little bit. The injustice is too much to handle.
Try to snap out of it and put things into perspective; must reel in all of the inappropriate emotions. Determine to not be so dramatic and emotional. This is too hard. I need a nap.
Z comes home and I've already been in bed for two hours. Life is definitely too hard. I ask him to do so many things for me in such a short amount of time that he makes a joke likening to me to the mouse in "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie". This is funny (and true), but I cry a little bit. He laughs and that's ok, because this is ridiculous. We know this. He is racking up treasures in heaven for how wonderful he's been during these weeks of sickness and emotional insanity.
We have to cancel ANOTHER social engagement because I'm not up for it, even though I have showered AND have done half-makeup. I cry, again. Frustration is at an overwhelming level. I will never feel normal again. Outlook is bleak.
I eat Eggo waffles in bed for dinner, teary eyed. Low point.
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow MUST be better.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
I just need to share this with someone, ok? Misery loves company.
Olive, our beloved Great Dane, went into heat recently.
Let me cut you off before your "But why haven't you spayed her like a responsible dog owner?" questioning begins.
Answer: German vets don't like to spay Great Danes. And if you find one who will perform such a surgery on such a large dog, they don't like to do before they've reached 1 year of age.
Olive is 10 months. We were so close...yet so far.
ANYWAYS. I won't get into the details. Let me just say, it's National Geographic all up in here. Emphasis on "graphic". Z is probably traumatized for life. We have both learned a lot more about dog anatomy and biology than we ever wanted. I've googled things I never thought I would need to know. And Olive is cranky and miserable because we've quarantined her, for obvious reasons. I fear we're doing irreversible psychological damage to this dog based on the way she's responding.
Then this happened, adding to her trauma and eventual need for pet psychological therapy.
I needed to wash Olive's blankets and bed today. The ones she spends the majority of her days laying on. At this point, they need to be washed often. Again, for obvious reasons. And I like to wash them twice, just, you know...because. This double-washing takes about 2 hours, start to finish.
So I think, well, I'll give Olive this big ol' bone to munch on while she's banished to the backyard for these 2 hours. She LOVES bones and we usually closely supervise her bone consumption...meaning we'll let her gnaw on it for about 20 to 30 minutes, then take it away. This makes bones last like...2 months. Well, I was having guilty dog-mom feelings about how sad and miserable Olive's been while quarantined for the past week, so I thought "Shoot, I'll just let her have the bone for as long as she wants". Woops. Worst mom ever.
I kept an eye on her and she loved that bone for the better part of an hour. Then she got bored and wandered off to do other dog things and stare sadly at me through the door, whining occasionally and making me feel terrible.
Finally her bed and blankets are done. So fresh and so clean. I make the executive decision to only put her towels back in her designated area; the bed was getting too much of a pain to clean. This turned out to be a great decision because...
Olive lay down, forlorn and sad, and started to whine and moan and groan in the way she's been doing for the past week. It's her special way of letting me and Z know how unhappy she is and how unfair her world feels. We didn't think much about it. UNTIL...
Olive starts heaving. And then proceeds to vomit the entire contents of her very large stomach onto the very clean towels. Z and I helplessly watched this horror unfold in a matter of seconds. I may have said something along the lines of "OH NO OH NO OH NO!!!" We quickly ushered Olive outside and provided her with a large bowl of water. Poor, poor Olive. It was quite clear that this was my fault. She had overindulged on the bone.
The good news? We were home when this happened. We did not have to come home to a mess. Clean up? So easy. Just one towel got the worst of it. Do you have any idea how thankful I am that it was not on our white rugs?! Or on any of our rugs, period? WHEW. Things could have been so much worse.
But can we just take a second to bless Olive's heart? Poor puppy is having a rough week.
So yeah. That was our first dog puke experience, amazingly enough. It was pretty horrifying, but could have been way worse. And for the first time, I finally understand why people get little dogs...little messes.