Before hitting my second trimester, everyone who knew that I was dealing with constant nausea and vomiting encouraged me to “just wait” until my second trimester.
They promised a magical moment when the ever-present nausea would cease and food would taste delicious. In short, I would feel human again. More than a month into my second trimester, I was beginning to lose hope, but I am happy to report that last week, I finally had my magical moment. Within a couple days time, I made a ten-pound ham, four dozen yeast rolls, banana pudding, mashed potatoes, and a few other Southern-style sides. It was heaven on earth in my kitchen (and in my mouth) … until three days later when it was all gone.
Although I can’t stop eating these days, I still haven’t stopped throwing up either. (Not a combination I would suggest). Fortunately, the vomiting is down from 10 times a day to three or four times, usually only at night and around lunch time.
I think it is safe to say that I have returned to the land of the living, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, my spirits are so much higher that I have even found a way to make the upchucking experience somewhat entertaining. Trying to figure out what exactly is coming out is a game that can keep me guessing for hours, especially on those days when I throw up something I know I’ve never eaten. For example, this morning I dined on strawberries but an hour later they mysteriously returned mixed with what appeared to be chunks of ground beef, which I haven’t eaten since February. (Don’t tell me that that's not just a little intriguing.)
And, the fun doesn’t stop there. When my guessing game gets old, I just remind myself that there is a bright side to barfing. The intense contractions my stomach muscles go through while I’m throwing up must be equivalent to at least a handful of abdominal crunches. I get in some workout time without ever leaving the bathroom, and I don’t have to feel so bad about cleaning out the jar of Nutella. It’s a win-win.
All in all, life is looking much rosier around our household these days. I just hope that there is a “magical moment” of self-control that kicks in soon, otherwise pretty soon I’ll not only be feeling human again, I’ll be feeling like a much larger human. And, it won’t be baby Palmer who’s to blame.