Cell Phones, Demons, Saviors And Rice

This was written in 2005. First Pregnancy (week 12 of being pregnant)

You know it is going to be a bad day when your cell phone is broken for no reason that you can comprehend. I woke up Wednesday morning feeling as horrible as a pregnant woman can feel. I was under a false sense of hope as I was able to refrain from my, now regular, 30 minute heaving episode. You can imagine that even though I’m upset that my phone is broken and I am effectively cut off from civilization as I know it, I had a false sense that it was going to be a good day. I was wrong.

I manage to squeeze myself into my clothes, slap my hair up in a semblance of a pony tail, brush on some mascara and grab my broken phone in the hopes that it is temporarily broken and will recover miraculously during the day and head out the door for work.

I’m going to make a side note here for everyone, myself included, that has supported the thought that the reason you see pregnant women that normally have blond hair sporting these horrible brown roots is because they are worried that coloring their hair will hurt the baby. This is not true. This is a myth pregnant woman spread around to keep the non-pregnant women ignorant to lure them in to the same torture trap they have been tricked into themselves. These are the woman who are being held prisoners by their bodies and when they finally have a spare moment away from laying down praying for salvation or being held hostage near the toilet – THEY DON’T GIVE TWO HOOTS IN HELL ABOUT THEIR HAIR. As far as I’m concerned these days – if I don’t have vomit on my chin or in my hair then you can stand to see me in whatever I could find on the floor or manage to fit into.

I get to work just fine and I won’t bore you with the details as for the most part the morning was fine. I didn’t start to feel sick until around 2pm . This is when the day starts to go downhill. Fast.

I’m in my office and my first wave of a hot flash washes over me. I am apparently one special gal as I am the lucky vessel of pregnancy combined with menopause. I have read as many books as possible and I really don’t think this is normal. Nothing mentions that I’m going to have hot flashes. But I do and that is all there is to it.

I have so far been taken by surprise each and every time. I’ll be doing something normal and then I start to have a feint headache and then my face feels flushed and then I can’t stand the clothes that I am wearing as they are suffocating me. This is unfortunate for me as this happens to me at work where I can’t just strip down without serious charges being brought against me in a court of law. The next wave can only be described by what I call “Rotten Mouth.” Rotten Mouth is horrible as it isn’t bad breath as I could just brush my teeth and be done with it. This horrible, horrible thing is a hot, rancid taste that comes up from my throat and sits in the back of my mouth. It tastes like I just nuked a two day old rat and am holding it in the back of my throat. Nothing helps this, which is why I always start vomiting pretty soon afterwards.

So I am sitting in my office trying to decide if I can tough it out a few hours or should I just go home. I’ve just about decided I could vomit in the downstairs bathroom again as not many employees or students use that bathroom. That’s when the Demon comes in. The demon is an employee in another department and she likes to pretend that she is my friend. I say pretend as she has all the characteristics of a friend but as soon as you get lulled into that sense of trust and safety – BAM – the snotty comments spew forth. The Demon has taken to walking past my office the past two weeks and announcing loudly to everyone how horrible I look. She makes these announcements with a glance at the 3 inch roots I have and the hair that is either in a messy ponytail or in a disaster around my face as I hadn’t the energy to dry it properly or at the dark circles I have under my eyes. It always frustrates me as she does this on the days that I’m thinking I’ve managed to pull myself together slightly. So Wednesday she announces how horrible I look and then walks into my office to chat.

So I am in a bit of a panic at this point as the Rotten Mouth is getting stronger, the heat is driving me batty, and her perfume is about to drive me over the edge. Vomiting in my trashcan in front of someone with fake sympathy is not an option so I’m sucking it up and trying to look like I’m busy on a student issue and can’t talk. This does not sway the Demon.

So the Demon chats for a bit and is really staring hard at my hair. So of course I automatically lift my hands to touch it to see if my worst fears have been realized and I have vomit somewhere in my hair. This is my worst fear as what I stated before is true – I don’t give TWO HOOTS IN HELL as to what it looks like fashion wise these days. So while I lift my hands my shirt lifts up and she sees that my pants are not buttoned or zipped.

Okay, another side note so you realize I didn’t unbutton or unzip them from the hot flash. I am 12 weeks pregnant and while I have lost weight, the weight I do have has shifted to my breasts and my belly. None of my pants will really fit me these days as it hurts my belly. I’m too small for maternity pants and it doesn’t help to get a bigger size as all that does is makes the rest of it bigger and the waistline is still too small for comfort. So my options are as follows. 1) Wear my regular pants unzipped and unbuttoned with a big shirt (It has to be a big shirt as my breasts are now enormous imposters of their old shape and most days I look as if I’m auditioning for a porn flick. Not that I’ve seen a porn flick, I’m using my imagination. I’m not even going to mention my fat arms. 2) Wear my maternity pants that are HUGE and will fall off (I sometimes pick this option as my belly feels great those days) 3) Just don’t come to work at all (not really an option).

So the Demon sees that my pants are unzipped and the horrible words that have made me nick name her the Demon spew forth. “Wow, I can see if you are already doing this at 6 weeks that you are going to be a complainer.”

Inside my head I was jumping out of my chair, grabbing her hair and slamming her face onto my desk over and over. What I managed to choke out was, “I am 12 weeks along right now and the pants feel better this way.” I also wanted to rant and rave about the complaining. Let me go on record and say while I might shoot out a funny e-mail now and then to friends and if someone asks me how I feel I might roll my eyes and let them know it is not so great – I do not go on and on about vomiting 6 out of every 7 days, I don’t chat about my frequent trips to the downstairs bathroom at work, I don’t chat about the horror that has become my body and if this chick thinks that me having frazzled hair and unbuttoned pants is complaining then someone needs to have a coming to Jesus meeting with her soon. Sooner rather than later.

I banish the Demon from my office with a chuckle and a wave goodbye when what I want to do is make the sign of the cross and throw Holy water on her. This is a pretty strong feeling and I’m not even catholic.

I’m sure you are not surprised that after this visit and the continuation of the Rotten Mouth that I decide that home is where I need to be. So I get in my car and I’m concentrating on getting home. I stop at a stop light and some guy in the car next to me starts waving at me. Okay, I’ve only been pregnant for 12 weeks so you can excuse my deluded brain for forgetting what my hair and face look like at this point and for thinking this guy was hitting on me. So I raise my head up to see what he is saying only to realize that God is certainly a jokester and I am his favorite reality show. They guy let’s me know that I’ve got a flat and it is REAL flat. Lovely.

All I can think is that my cell phone is still broken and I haven’t managed to remember my own number much less Blake’s so he can rescue me. I pull into the nearest gas station and find the water/air machine. It takes 50 cents and I happen to have a total of 6 dimes and 3 pennies on me. I shove 5 dimes into the machine before my brain kicks in to remind me that these machines have to have Quarters. If you know me, the next reaction will come as no surprise to you. I started to cry. I sat on the grass next to the machine and my flat tire and started to cry. Then I started to heave, and then full fledge vomiting on my hands and knees on the grass. My little “complaining session” is so overwhelming that I don’t notice my Savior pulling up in a battered truck right next to me. To tell you the truth I didn’t even have time to really get a good luck at him with the heaving but this nice man in his overall/work jumper plugged in 2 quarters and filled up the air in all of my tires (not just the flat one). He stood next to me and told me I’d be fine and got in his truck and left. God apparently was still watching his favorite reality show.

So of course I make it home but I need to tell you about the rice and my cell phone so I’m going to continue my story. I get home and by the time Blake gets home the Rotten Mouth and hot flash have come and gone and all I’m left with is the headache that just keeps getting worse. I start to worry as I’ve had migraines before and this was just a step away. I’m drinking Gatorade like no tomorrow and decide that sleep is the only thing that will make this go away. It is 3 am when I wake Blake up with my whimpers and ask him to get me an apple, a Tylenol and some water. He does this without groaning, moaning or hesitating and going back to sleep so the man gets brownie points.

It is 6 am when I realize that work is not an option today. I’d like to note that is my first day to call in sick since I realized I had a bun in the oven. So the rest of the day was miserable and I won’t torture you with it but note that the headache went away around 4pm .

Now my thoughts turn towards my cell phone and the horrors that can happen to you if you don’t have a cell phone. I was just enlightened by a coworker Wednesday morning about all the crazies out there kidnapping pregnant women so they can stab them and rip out the baby to keep for their own. ISN’T THAT A HORRIBLE THING TO TELL A PREGNANT WOMAN!!!!!!!! What are these people thinking when they tell me this crap. Apparently they don’t realize that I will always take this type of information to the Nth degree and am now afraid to get my mail as I’m sure the van parked around the corner is a group of barren women stalking me for my child.

I haul myself up of the bathroom floor and manage to shower and throw some sweats on so I can go to the Sprint store. I push open the door to the store and am attacked by the sales rep. I let him know that I need the MOST RELIABLE phone (I didn’t go into the barren women stalking me) but I let him know that the phone I had prior had a camera, web connections and all that jazz and it had a HORRIBLE connection. I tell him that I am convinced that all the “extras” make the phone basically useless as far as reception and that I want the most basic phone he has so it can just focus on the actual call. He gives this information 2 seconds of thought and then points to the $350 phone with all the bells and whistles and tells me how much his wife loves this phone. You can imagine the look and direction I then gave this man. I think in my rant to him I mentioned flat tires, Demons, and inconsiderate people who have no idea what life is like in the “real” world. THANK GOD THE MANAGER has apparently had a pregnant wife as he didn’t kick me out of the store; he just took over for the idiot and sold me the cheap phone. (My cell phone number is the same so please don’t delete my number).

I go home and am waiting for Blake to get home and I start to get a craving for a Crunch roll from the sushi joint. Now don’t panic as the doctor said I can have the cooked sushi rolls and this is fully cooked so it is okay. Blake gets home and I’m excited to eat a Crunch Roll. Blake is a skeptic but I insist this is what I need to feel great tonight. We get the works: I had edamame , miso soup, a bowl of steamed rice and my crunch roll. Everything goes down great but by the time Blake pays the bill I start to worry. We get home and yup, you guessed it – we just wasted $40 bucks on a dinner that I didn’t hold down longer than 30 minutes. Please note that the only reason I’m even sharing this particular upchuck story is that the feeling of the rice coming back up is worth sharing. I have upchucked a lot of things in the past few months and I have to tell you that undigested rice is the WORST feeling ever. Please take note and if you ever feel sick – do not eat rice. The rice comes up chunky and not all in one ball. It’s hot, mixed in with the liquid you have in your system, it comes up all separate and it sticks all the way up and down your throat and it will keep you heaving WAY longer than you would if it wasn’t there triggering all of your gag reflex triggers.

Today is Friday and I didn’t heave this morning, but I do have a pony tail holder looped through my button hole and then wrapped around the button of my pants to hold them together. Keep your fingers crossed for me……..

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