Scratch that. I feel like death warmed over.

For three days I didn’t vomit. It freaked me out so badly that when I started spotting I thought FOR SURE I was miscarrying. The baby was fine and I thought, “wow- I could be normal. This could be the light at the end of the tunnel!” I ate everything in sight and I even RAN AN ERRAND to the mall to get my chapped, dehydrated lips some of my favorite lipgloss and my three year old some fancy pink mary janes. TOWANDA!!!!!!

And then it was over. And I was dizzy and vomiting and vomiting and dizzy, and it’s all been downhill since then. I threw up while driving this morning, which, let me tell you, takes a certain amount of skill and finesse to pull off. Thank heaven we’ve been living off of fast food and there was a McDonald’s bag within reach. I puked through the stop light, I puked down the street, I puked through the roundabout, and then pulled into a Burger King parking lot, parked sideways and heaved the rest of my guts up. A very kind bus driver saw all this and pulled over to make sure that I was alright, “ha ha”, I told her, “morning sickness”. . .from hell, I added mentally. She told me that she had never been pregnant, but that it looked pretty awful, and asked if she could call someone for me. I told her that I was fine, and that I was on my way to the clinic anyway.

“But shouldn’t your husband be taking you?” She was adamant.
“Um, they don’t let him off for stuff like this. Only if they think I’m dying, really.”
“Oh.”

And so I went, I barely got through my appointment without fainting or puking. The doctor told me to “keep my fingers crossed” that it will ease up. Yeah.

I’ll be in my bed.