Sacrifices of Being a Parent

I've known that I am pregnant for about six weeks now, but there are moments when the revelation hits me all over again. Sometimes midnight dreams about birthing a toddler do the trick, or sometimes it's the screaming kid a few aisles over at the grocery store. This morning, however, it was an especially violent recollection. Because my tummy really isn't that big yet, it's easier than you'd think to simply forget momentarily that there is a living creature growing inside of me. This morning, however, my little "gremlin" - as we affectionately call him/her - decided to remind me of his/her presence.

As I was getting ready for work, I was overwhelmed with the "sparkly" sensation in my eyes where I feel like I could pass out at any moment (sort-of like a snowy TV channel when the reception goes out). I made it through my shower, but only barely. I had to turn the water temperature down several times to keep myself upright. For some reason, hot water and pregnant bodies don't fare well together. I quickly dried myself off before lying down in bed for five minutes to regain my composure. When I felt that I was once again in control, I resumed my morning routine. It dragged on and on as I had to keep sitting down every 3-5 minutes to avoid the eye sparkles.

I managed to get dressed in a skirt and a pair of leggings before it hit me. At 8:45, when I would normally be walking out the door for work, I'm suddenly overcome with "the feeling" - you know, the feeling that your insides want to be on your outsides? So I run into the bathroom just in time to hurl my guts out into my disgustingly neglected toilet. Between rounds of gagging, the combination of putrid smells was enough to trigger another episode. The scent of mostly digested acidic leftovers mixed with dried urine was so intense.

When the violent expulsions had finally slowed, I took a moment to wipe the tears and snot from my snow white face. As I stood up, I realized that I had puked so hard I'd peed myself! I blotted up the mess of pee from the bathroom floor, and threw the handful of bodily fluid-soaked tissues in the toilet bowl before flushing it. But I made the mistake of glancing down to examine its contents. The horrendous orangish-red mass of bile that had been propelled from my body was now summoning the little bit of strength that I had left - just to avoid another episode.

Exhausted, embarrassed, and late for work, I quickly shed the leggings and the pair of underwear I had been wearing. Feeling dizzy and pessimistic, I headed to my closet to find a clean pair of underwear. After the string of events that morning, I was relatively unsurprised to learn that the pee-drenched pair had been my last clean pair. The only underwear left in my basket were "granny panties" that gave me perpetual wedgies. However, considering the subzero temperatures outside I decided that wedgies seemed like a better alternative than hypothermia.

I pulled out of my snow-clad driveway with thoughts of gratitude filling my head. There is no way that my baby will appreciate me enough for this until they, too, are becoming parents. Mom and dad, you guys went through a LOT after I was born (especially when I was a teenager), but only now can I really appreciate what a sacrifice parenting really is. Thanks for all the throw-up, the pants-peeing, and granny panties-wearing that you probably had to do for me too.