For Future Reference

These words have actually come out of my mouth during this long and miserable time known as the First Trimester of Pregnancy. Needless to say, we do not intend to get pregnant again - EVER again.

"I want to die."
"Am I dying?"
"Ryan, I want you to put me in a coma for the next month so I don't have to live through this."
"Please film my misery so that if I ever want to do this again, I'll be reminded of the horror."
"I hope dying feels better than this."

Yes. I'm sick. And not just your cute little morning sickness. Its all the time sickness. And its bad. Really really really bad. I feel like it deserves another really. Its that bad.

So here is my rant that I can come back to in a few years to remind me why we will be getting a puppy instead of a third kid:

I am sick. All the time. I want to puke. All the time. My energy is completely zapped and I am a wet rag, stuck in bed or just barely able to make it to the couch. When I can muster up the strength to stand in the shower, it is considered a good day, and after that, I'm completely wiped. Julia and I have watched more TV in one week than in my entire cumulative lifetime. Consequently, I can actually hear her brain cells dying. I wake up sickest in the middle of the night where I have to convince myself that puking really won't help and try to go back to sleep. I constantly dry heave but have nothing to give because food is not my friend. I am sick when I am hungry and I am sick when I eat. The only things I can manage are grains, cheese and milk. Consequently - bunny poops. For days. Not fun. I can't even remember the last green thing that I ate. Oh wait, it was probably mint chocolate chip icecream.

I get scared on the weekends knowing that Ryan will get to go to work on Monday (and folks, it really is a treat compared to taking care of a brain damaged two year old and bed bump invalid of a wife), and I'll be home alone to manage. And then there's the fear that this won't actually stop after the first trimester like it did the first time, but that it will continue, and linger . . . a death gauntlet or horror and misery. Yes, a death gauntlet.

BUUUUUUTTTTTTT,

The second trimester will eventually come. I'll be totally better - energized and glowing. Right? And at the end, we'll have a full family. Julia will be a sister and the miracle of life will be amazing. But seriously, if I ever want to do this again, make me read this. Remind me that my body hates pregnancy. Pregnancy = poisonous treacherous long painful weary death depression and distruction.

Anybody want to be a surrogate? :o)