Sunday, October 17, 2004

Spoke too soon..


Friday evening was a no-med failure of hideous and explosive proportions. My ribs still hurt. Horrific.

I'm slowly coming to realize that being pregnant is like a long term torture session that consists of deciding what you hate least.

For example:

What do you hate least?

Feeling sick to your stomach all day long and vomitting in horrible explosive episodes or being so constipated that the word "constipated" does not beging to describe the incredible discomfort and pain associated with it?

Do you hate having to tell your workmates you are pregnant and being subjected to the immediate "camraderie" that comes with being "in the club" and hearing personal details about tragic miscarriages and horrific birth about people you know barely beyond their first name more than you hate the fact that you know people are wondering what is up with you with the sudden bloating, running to the bathroom, gagging at smells, and wandering around in a giant coat because you are cold from nausea all the time?

It's been one long series of indignities that only get worse from what I can gather. It all started with the "vag salute" at the doctor when I got my pregnancy results confirmed, and will end with my vag on full display.

Cheery. I know.

I can't wait til the mythical second trimester gloriousness kicks in. It's got to get better right?


Blogger Jodi said...

I hesitate to ask ... but I'm asking anyway: What is a "vag salute"? How does it salute? Does it dress in military garb and stand at attention? Do I even want to know?

October 19, 2004 at 7:08 AM  

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