Thursday, February 13, 2014

Third-trimester nausea: total scam

This last Monday, I missed birthing class to stay home and vomit.  Heather frowned on the choice, but I’d thrown up twice during Sunday’s make-up class and innumerable times throughout the day Monday, so I told her to screw off and go to class alone.

(Note: that’s just big talk.  I apologized profusely for abandoning her and suggested that she claim she had to be home with her poor, pregnant wife.  Bravely, she declined my suggestion, sitting through class and contraction practices alone, but it isn’t like I didn’t get sh*t for it.)

Third-Trimester Nutrition: Fail
I have the sense to know what I’m supposed to be eating to feed my growing fetus.  Lots of protein, says Midwife Amy, plus all the bright-colored produce.  It just doesn’t happen.  Whatever this morning sickness is, nothing that even approaches healthy food stays down.  A nice whole-wheat bagel and Greek yogurt?  Nope.  The yogurt (part of my protein plan) seems to be particularly repugnant to little Evie.  Probiotics! I say to her, and she’ll have none of it.  A blueberry doughnut, though?  Absolutely.

Coddling: Fail?
Heather remains disbelieving and disapproving of the foods that stick, which are almost invariably unhealthy.  I told her that I couldn’t be responsible for what her daughter rejected from the womb, and she said that I should learn to just swallow my vomit if it contained fruit or vegetables.  I was pleased to reply yesterday, after the topic and the yogurt came up, that I was at the seven-month mark, and she was now obligated to commence full-time coddling.  Bam.

Now, Heather is a fine person, and she’s a fine Valentine’s gift-giver.  She got me cupcakes and a pre-natal massage to go with my flowers.  You can’t do better than that.  However, coddling is not her strong suit.  She admits it, so hopefully I won’t get scolded for saying that.  It takes more patience than she has on call, and to be honest I’m conflicted over what to expect.  Is it a diva move to ask her if she’d help me put on my socks in the morning?  Maybe that’s too much to ask—mornings aren’t her strong suit, either—but I’ve gotten two good foot-rubs out of the deal so far…

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