Smacked by the Toilet Seat

Morning sickness was definitely a term coined by men to deceive women from the awful state of mind, fatigue, and constant nausea that is the first trimester of pregnancy.  The last three months were a daze, tasting the aftermath of everything I consumed whether it be just a leftover taste in my mouth, regurgitated burps that were swallowed before they made it out of my body, or puke into the sink (oops) or toilet.  Smells have plagued me wherever I have been whether it be the aisles at Costco, the Chinese food court in Canada, Jordan's poopy diapers, dish soap, or even worse... food preparation.  Ugh.  Food preparation.  In addition, nothing sounds good to eat.  Thanksgiving scares me.  Food in general sounds disgusting to me, commercials for food on the television make me want to puke.  This time around, I have only minor cravings for burgers and huckleberry lemonade (or any flavored lemonade for that matter), but mostly food sounds gross and the idea of eating makes me sick.

Yesterday, feeling completely nauseous in a prelude to what I thought what be a puke fest, I murmured on the couch under my baby blanket (I have a pink and yellow and Jordan has assumed ownership of my yellow so I'm stuck with the pink one that is falling apart) as I kept swallowing, hoping it would keep everything down.  At the peak of my discomfort, I ran into the bathroom, confident I was about to puke.  I lifted the toilet seat, gathered my hair in a ponytail in the back, and as I leaned forward.... the toilet seat smacked me on the nose.  Shocked, taken aback, and completely repulsed by the fact that Andy has not cleaned the bathroom in more than a week (despite my constant kind reminding nagging).  Andy followed me in to make sure I was okay, but he could not hold back the laughter that will surely ensue in the next coming days.  "Is it too soon to laugh?" he asked as tears streamed down my face.  On one hand, I was grateful that the smack in the face had somehow reversed the urge to puke, on the other hand, a toilet seat just hit me in the face.  I would feel the sting of the hit in the face for the next hour.  I nodded, and tried to hold back the tears.  Andy tried to hold my hair for me, but it was too late. There would be no puke this night, only a smack in the face by the toilet seat.

I cannot wait for second trimester.  And I know I don't have it as bad as some girls, so I should really be grateful, which I am.  But it still hurts.  My nose and pride that is.