So, um, right.
Last week, I was wondering aloud when I’d be socked in the gut with the storied waves of nausea that supposedly attack all pregnant women. I was cheered by readers who responded that they, their mothers, or their friends had not only NOT experienced morning sickness, but had felt the best they’d ever felt while pregnant. I was even, I confess, guardedly confident that I might count myself amongst them.
And then I woke up this morning.
For the first couple hours, everything was fine. Then I ate a muffin bursting with round, fat, juicy blueberries, felt dizzy, and then succumbed to the wave of nausea that recalled past migraines. I closed the curtains against all lights, rolled up into a ball under the covers and waited for the inevitable.
I’d like to think–am still so dumbly optimistic to hope–that this was an anomaly, that it was my one fleeting moment with morning sickness*, and that I’ll continue to feel as wonderful as I’ve felt so far. I especially hope so because I spent noon til three in the fetal position and am just now–at 10 minutes til five–actually getting to work.
*though why it’s called morning sickness if it eats up half the day is beyond me.