Wednesday, July 28, 2010
"Dark Day"
Today was not my finest day. I did not show grace under pressure, but instead cracked under it, having one meltdown after another and wallowing much of my waking hours. As I remarked to my friend, Kate, referring to a former maudlin student-- who took to wearing giant sunglasses on days she was really down--and her own classification of such days, today was my "dark day."
I've come down very far since last Monday morning when I peed on a stick and found out I was pregnant. Besides some anxiety about the prospect of going through pregnancy and childbirth and infancy once again, as well as some worry over miscarriage (since I had one back in June, and my doctors are currently acting as though the one incident is going to be a new trend for me and have had me back and forth for blood work as if to ''prove" that I'm still really pregnant this time) I felt fine physically. I even remarked a few times, "Wow. I don't even feel pregnant!"
As it were, I spoke too soon.
On Saturday, the nausea started edging in. Just a little--just on the periphery, such that one could almost miss it. "Is that nausea?... Naaa." Then on Sunday it pushed in a little more, flirting with me enough to make me start to worry. "Ok, that's definitely nausea... but maybe it isn't going to get worse. Maybe I can ignore it and it'll go away." Monday it amped up some more and asked me out. "No, this is a tenacious little bastard." Tuesday it showed up at my door. And today, well, today it knocked me on my ass, pushing its way inside my house, up into my bedroom, and settled in nice and cozy in my bed. Metaphorically speaking.
This morning I woke up at 5:15am and had to immediately eat a bowl of cereal so my stomach had something in it, even though I was going back to bed. But I can't fall asleep when I feel like that. Then, around 10, I woke up and felt sick to my stomach so I went into the bathroom. Brian called from work, wanted to talk about some leaky pipe situation we have going on (literally; not metaphorically) and I was a jerk to him. I said, "Look, I don't know if it's leaking right now; I didn't look at it yet. I feel like I'm going to puke. Can't I call you later?" He wanted to stay on the phone with me. Then I burst out, voice breaking with self-pitying tears, "I feel horrible! I can't do this for 34 more weeks! I KNEW I didn't want to get pregnant again! I was right!" He tried to console me, "I'm sorry you feel bad, but on the bright side, it won't be for 34 more weeks!" Angry that he was trying to be reasonable, I said with caustic sarcasm, "Oh yeah, because after the first trimester's nausea, everything is completely wonderful and there's no further discomfort with having to get up to piss 10 times a night and not being able to sleep because I'm huge!" He let me get off the phone then.
That was nothing, though, compared to the poor sot who called at 10:30.
I'd just gotten another bowl of cereal and crawled miserably back into my bed, feeling like utter crap and just wanting not to feel like puking. Then the phone rings. I check caller ID and see that it's CitiCards. CitiCards, it should be noted, have called every day for the last 5 days. The first time was at least in the afternoon, but was right after Brian left so they said they'd call back. The next 4 were in the morning anywhere between 9 and 10:30. The past 2 days, I'd angrily lifted the receiver only to slam it back down, merely to stop the ringing. With me, calls from businesses of any kind that come before 11:30 piss me off. Particularly because if they come early, they could wake Lily (and us), which means a disturbance. Add to this disturbance, though, the fact that now I feel like vomiting pretty much the second I wake up, so if something wakes me, I feel sick immediately, and thus it is an even greater disturbance. But I digress...
So it rings; it's CitiCards; I pick it up.
"Hello--" I spit out, not at all welcoming.
"Oh, hi, is Brian in?" asks the unsuspecting man.
"No, he's not. And can you people do me a favor, and if you're going to call every single day, can you at least do it in the afternoon or evening so you don't wake me and my kid?!" I ask with great anger.
There was a slight pause. But rather than saying, "Oh, sorry, we'll try back later--or never" he says, "Oh... well, is this Natalie?" That just sent me over the edge. He's persisting with this call??
"Yes, it is, but I don't want to talk to you! I have morning sickness and feel like crap and I don't want to deal with you people!!!" And I slammed the phone down, feeling a momentary burst of satisfaction. There, I told him!
Then I started sobbing into my cereal.
What exactly did that little outburst prove? I mean, yes, those pushy phone bastards need to let it go and quit bugging me, but he's just doing his job. I didn't have to be such a jerk about it. It isn't like yelling at him made my nausea go away. In fact, I just felt like a huge ass after.
I indugled in my little pity party until I choked on my cereal since it went down the wrong tube, then I blew my nose and tried to start my day.
I called a friend and told her the story right after, and cried when I relayed the story to her voicemail. When I spoke to her live later in the day, she said she saved the message because it was actually quite funny. She also said she was glad I'd told off that phone operator. Despite the support, I still feel stupid. (It kind of reminds me of the time I was 7 or 8 and my mom's leg started bleeding after her operation. I ran out of the house, found my neighborhood kid pals outside, and screamed at them something like what do they know? My mom's leg was bleeding! Yelling about it seemed, at the moment, the only viable solution, but was, in fact, no solution at all.) Ah well.
The rest of the day I spent attempting to eat foods more substantial than cereal. For lunch, I managed an oriental chicken salad from Applebees (which didn't sit so well), and, for dinner, cream chipped beef and a triangle of Belgian waffle from a diner (which sat a little better, but not well either). Whilst brushing my teeth, I threw up the vitamin I'd just taken a few minutes earlier. In laying down to sleep, I felt heart-burny, so I decided to get up and write this confession, er, blog.
Tomorrow I have an ultrasound, an hour before which I have to drink 32oz of water and then not pee it out until after they press on my stomach and bladder with the wand thing. Should be good times.
I'm hoping that when I go to bed in a couple minutes, I get a great night's sleep, and that when I wake up, I feel fine, graceful, and light.
Otherwise I'm going to have to call that girl and borrow her gigantic sunglasses--for anonymity after I act like an idiot to strangers.
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