It's day 107, but why does it feel like day 334? Or put another way, a friend asked today: "does it feel like November is rushing toward you?" I didn't have to think long and hard for the answer. It went something like this:
No.I swear, I'm starting to sympathyze with the Egyptians in their little spat with Moses. Elisa has been plagued by it all. At this stage of the ordeal, I would actually welcome the four horses of the apocalypse. They would be a refreshing upgrade from the horrors currently plaguing Elisa.
It started with puking. You've heard it all before. And since Elisa was pigheaded about carrying around a little plastic bag to puke into, she got to, um, share her "offerings" with many around her. At the counter at Whole Foods. In front of the check-in line at the airport. Wherever. Not that she gave a damn, as sick as she was.
But then, as the puking started to phase out, she got the
These were lots of fun, as she lay in bed at 6 p.m. in agony, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to make her feel better. I couldn't even
make fun of her be a supportive husband! That was fine, because those were nothing compared to the
Lack of "Regularity"
I was looking for a polite way to bring up this subject, and I really don't mean to embarrass her. But boy, contrary to popular perception, constipation is not a laughing matter. It had Elisa in agony, and, as usual, fearing for the baby's safety (as though swollen intestines would squeeze the baby to death or something).
Sure, sure, everyone says "eat prunes", but those seem to work -- ahem -- too well. So it was time to try and eat bran cereal. You know the stuff -- it looks and smells like tree bark, but tastes even worse. And it seemed to work.
She finally had success, the pressure was relieved, we high-fived and cheered in genuine celebration, tears of joy streaming down our faces.
See, it's Kodak moments like this during pregnancy that no one told me about.
But despite the temporary relief, the ills continue to plague Elisa, leading to the
Perpetual Frowny Face
Elisa likes to say, "I thought pregnancy was supposed to be fun!" To which I reply, "Are you on crack?"
I'd never heard of pregnancy being anything but horrible. I mean, all I'd ever heard was about the puking and the back pains and the horrible gas and the hideous labor pains. But "fun"? Next thing I'll hear is someone tell me Barney the Purple Dinosaur is "fun". These things were NEVER meant to be fun. They're meant to be endured. (Or so I have always assumed.)
But when I mention this to people "in the know", I get a lot of "Oh, the first and third trimesters are bad. But she'll feel great during the second." I was even promised a livelier libido (yeah, right!).
Yeah, there's nothing fun about this setup. That frowny face is a common sight around my parts, especially now that Elisa has convinced herself that the baby has
I mean, there were several new confirmed cases in Toronto. And given we're a mere 3,000 miles away, it was obvious our baby was in great danger of infection.
So we're doomed. But if by some miracle we survive that epidemic, weak and bloodied, we'll still have to deal with the
You know it's only a matter of time.