Laundry Day

No more morning sickness. No more toilet hugging. No more misery.

Sixteen weeks into the pregnancy and I feel like my old self again. Well, except for the frequent need to eat and the earlier than usual bedtime.

I have lost a total of 24 pounds thanks to the low fat, low salt and low sugar diet I’ve been prescribed to control the gestational diabetes and hypertension. But last week, I gained two pounds. Finally, something to celebrate after months of health worries.

Every check-up is a game of hide and seek as the OB tries to capture the beanie baby’s heartbeat through doppler. He/She likes to hide behind my pulse so it takes a while to find him/her. And when we finally catch the fast pitter patter of his tiny heart, he/she swims to find another hiding place.

As soon as the eighth week of pregnancy kicked in, the drama that is morning sickness started to unfold. I feel miserable as soon as I open my eyes. Sudden movements make my head spin. I just want to stay in bed. Any normal activity is a struggle: getting out of bed, having breakfast, taking a shower, getting dressed and going to work.

Going to work is a whole story in itself. It’s bad enough that the bumpy ride makes me want to show my fellow passengers what I had for breakfast. It becomes even worse that some people you commute with, people you usually don’t notice, start offending you because they don’t smell right—rancid coconut oil hair, too masculine cologne, saccharine perfume, sweat-soaked polyester shirt, etc.

I have always been a mid-morning person. This inability to function normally is disconcerting. How can a baby the size of a bean take me down and stop me from going to work for a whole week? Maybe it’s the cocktail of hormones sloshing around my body. Maybe it’s the husband’s genetic material trying to protect his offspring. Maybe it’s my body telling me to take it easy because I am no longer just “me”.

There are good days too. Getting out of bed still takes some effort but you just feel better than most. I can keep my breakfast down. I actually have my appetite back. I can walk for hours. I can concentrate on my work. I’m quite close to my old self again.

I should be rejoicing that I am having a good day but I can’t help worrying that this sudden change of mood may be some sort of signal that something could be wrong with my beanie baby. A day later, the misery sets in again and I know that “the bean” is doing well. But before I go to sleep, I rub my belly and tell “the bean” to take it easy on me because we’re supposed to be a team for the whole nine months.

This tiny thing inside me is giving me nausea, heartburn and all-day morning sickness.

But other than that, I’m pretty excited!