Barfing up the baby

"I had no morning sickness." 

I can't count the number of times I said that. Gloated about it even. 

I gloated well past that first trimester, when you're supposed to be tossing your breakfast cookies daily...except that I never did.

"I had no morning sickness." 

Now say it again and place the emphasis on the HAD. Dammit.

Here I am, more than halfway into this deal, and I get blindsided this morning by the distinct urge to barf up the baby, and all that surrounds her, all of over the bedroom floor at 5AM.

Lame.

I felt like I had a hangover, dehydrated and dying to hurl but unable to. But since I drank and ate nothing all for dinner last night….ah yes, therein lies the problem. For the first time in 5 months, I skipped a meal. 

I guess there actually is a *good* reason that I've eaten every two hours for the last 1,680 hours. Kept me from yorking. Irony.

My dear husband came to the rescue, as always, this time with a piece of nice, dry toast--the only piece of anything edible in the apartment. 

I ate while crouched on the bathroom floor--which, by the way, is a place one should ever have to eat. Ever. In no time, all was right with my internal world again.

My sincerest applause to all the women who dealt with "morning" sickness every day, all day, for the first 3 months of their pregnancies. I'd have turned poor Lyric over to a surrogate mommy for baking if I'd felt like this more than twice.