I spent the whole weekend in one of three places: in bed, where I laid there and cried and retched and ate cookies and retched and drank sprite and retched; in the bathroom, hugging the toilet, retching; and in the bathtub, where, miraculously I did not retch. I feel great in the bathtub. Unfortunately, I have four children who would rather I get out of the tub now and make them some dinner.
The Hub has a vasectomy scheduled for this coming Friday, the 27th. I am mad because his mom is coming to "help him out" afterwards, and staying the whole weekend. Do you think she ever came and helped me out after bearing her grandchildren? Of course not. I find it very insulting that she thinks I cannot care for the kids while he is recovering from a very minor procedure, but that he can care for them while I am recovering from childbirth. Geez lady, what do you think I do while he is at work all day? Make them change their own shitty diapers and read their own stories and sing songs to themselves, while I sit in front of the tv with a box of BonBons and a bottle of Boone's? (Ahhh, sounds nice though, doesn't it?)
I called the doctor. I don't feel like I have regular morning sickness - I feel like I did in 2003, when I had a stillborn baby. He died in utero and was delivered nearly 2 weeks later, and those two weeks were absolute hell. I felt so unbelievably sick, and I feel like that now. My midwife can't order ultrasounds so I called the doctor, who wants me to have bloodwork. Assholes. I swear to God, I could be a doctor just from what I've read on Google. I just need an ultrasound to see if the baby is alive. I do not want this baby. I am not requesting an ultrasound just to get an excitedlittle peek. I WANT TO FEEL BETTER and if I am carrying around a dead fetus I want it out so I can get better.