Sorry for the terrible picture of me. It was one of those pregnant days. Not a lot has changed between weeks 23 and 24, so I’ll take this opportunity to share a short story from my journey of carrying Caleb.
It was a hot, beautiful day. We were on our way back from another positive doctor’s appointment. Although mostly over the morning sickness, I was still much more prone to nausea than normal. Hunger combined with some winding roads on the drive got my stomach to churning. We were headed for a Five Guys near home, but a few blocks before we arrived it became clear that we were getting there just a little bit too late. I begged Andrew to hurry.
As soon as we had we whizzed into a parallel parking spot, I threw open my passenger door and lost my breakfast on the curb. I sat there pathetically, head hanging out the car, heaving, while Andrew watched pedestrians steer clear of me on their way by. When I had finished emptying my stomach of all the nutrients I had so diligently given it that morning, I asked Andrew if he could pull ahead to the vacant spot in front of us. I’m not really sure why. As we sat in our new spot, giving me a minute to catch my breath, we watched in horror as a car with two people pulled up and parked right behind us.
“Should we warn them?” The idea was mentioned, but it seemed a bit late for such action. We both sat stock-still in our seats, staring in trepidation into our rear view mirrors to see if the nice middle-aged lady in the passenger seat would check the ground before she stepped out of the car. It felt like we were secret agents — they always seem to watch suspects through the rear view mirror. The scene before us seemed as if it were taking place in slow motion. The passenger door creeeeeaked open. The lady slowly shifted her body in her seat. And then she looked down.
Clearly spotting the gift I’d left, she swung her leg out well onto where the grass was unmarred and pulled herself out of the car, mumbling something to her husband and taking care to close the door without stepping in anything unseemly.
Breathing a sigh of relief as they disappeared down the street, I suggested, “Well, should we go eat?”
“You feel like eating?” Andrew queried politely.
“Yeah, I’m actually really hungry now. Aren’t you?”
Andrew, who had been famished just minutes earlier, replied, “Uh, not really.”
Poor guy. I hadn’t thought about what my little adventure had done to his appetite. But being the hero that he is, we still made our visit to Five Guys, where baby and I got the hamburger I’d been craving.
It’s funny how throwing up has come to feel fairly routine. I randomly couldn’t keep breakfast down just yesterday. But each is episode a happy reminder of how amazing I feel most of the time!