I just managed to brush my teeth, vomit and wet my pants all at the same time.
Rufus walked in the door just as I was processing this latest turn of events in the pregnancy and looking a bit shaky and teary eyed.
I’ve had a few moments in my life that would register on a disgusting scale. There was the time I helped a teacher rinse maggots off goat meat in the middle of the Australian bush so we could cook it for dinner (I am not lying). There was the time I almost fell into an open pit of sewage when the old paint tin that served as a toilet seat rolled off its support logs (Australian bush, again). There was the moment someone threw up in the Gravitron ride at the fair and we were all helpless to do anything as the vomit crept ever closer to us because we were literally stuck to the walls by gravity. And yes, I did drunkenly throw up out a cab window once (score one for London).
But somehow this topped them all. To actually throw up while brushing my teeth.
We have now reached week 19, and all’s well. Or at least so far, so good. I thought the “morning sickness” had gone now, but I still have these little moments.
It’s all worth it of course. I haven’t written much lately because I am reluctant to sound like I am complaining or unappreciative. Nausea is no fun, but you do get into a kind of rhythm with it, and underpinning it all is the knowledge that yes, this really does seem to be happening. I like to think these weird queasy moments are just a sign that some serious growth spurt is going on in there.
And not so very long ago pregnancy was beginning to feel increasingly like an impossible dream.
hubbub 