Dillierama

I naively thought that not working during this pregnancy would make dealing with the first (and very likely second) trimester nausea a breeze.  In some ways it is easier.  I'm not having to throw up in a zip lock bag in my car during rush hour traffic.  I don't have to puke in a public toilet or in the trash can at my desk.  What I didn't really consider is that being home with a toddler who still poops in his pants isn't making the nausea any easier to bear. 

It's not just wiping poop out of the creases of Alex's scrotum that is making me sick, even just changing a wet diaper makes me gag.  The smell of macaroni and cheese (Alex's lunch of choice) makes me dry heave.  Rocking Alex to sleep for his nap gives me motion sickness. It's also the fact that he thinks I'm a human jungle gym.  Having 25 pounds of solid toddler jump on me when I'm not sick is actually quite enjoyable, but when my stomach is queasy and my boobs are swollen and sore, it's not a picnic.   

There's also the guilt of not having the energy to play with Alex all day.  I'm days behind in laundry. I've stopped cooking and my family is living on fast food.  For the last three days I've let Alex run around the house in his jammies all day until I change him into clean jammies at night which doesn't really matter since he hasn't had a bath since last week.

Don't get me wrong though, it's not that bad.  I'm really only half as sick as I was with Alex, which is a relief.  And I'd rather be sick and feel like the pregnancy is going well than feel fine and wonder the whole time if I'm still pregnant.  And I don't for one second take for granted how lucky I am to be able to be home with Alex, to be pregnant with a new baby and have a husband who comes home after a long day of work with a sack of hamburgers and a kiss for his wife who hasn't showered in a couple of days.  Life is good.