Incense and Peppermints

I interrupt my regularly-scheduled post from our pre-pregnancy days to bring you a real-time update.

 

I really thought things were getting better and that I was figuring out how to handle my first trimester hangover. Then week 13 hit and the next 4 days were indescribable and unpredictable.

 

I've been eating snacks constantly to battle low blood sugar and keep me from barfing. Peach juice has been saving me.

 

I've been sucking on leftover candy canes and other peppermints to help ease my quease.

 

I've been trying out Tums to fight my heartburn and the most awful feeling of having a piece of apple lodged in the back of my throat that I can't swallow (what I've learned is actually acid reflux) every afternoon/evening. Bizarre.

 

I've been drinking tons of water to make sure I'm not dehydrated and to try to get rid of the headaches. Not really working.

 

I've been taking my vitamins at night, at what I thought was the perfect time after dinner and before bed, while food is still in my belly but I'm not awake long enough to potentially feel sick from the vity.

 

Then Thursday night I have to jump out of bed at 10:45 p.m. to hurl, with barely enough time to find my goggles and grab a random hair tie. And it hurt my stomach muscles and gave me a headache. Ugh.

 

Then Sunday morning we go to Mass. I walk in and immediately sniff the incense in the air. Oh dear Jesus. We walk to our pew and I actually think to myself, "Good thing the incense is this weekend and not any earlier weekend, because I'm feeling so much better." Then the church gets crowded. So crowded that it's standing room only. Interesting. I know the Epiphany is a good reason to celebrate, and I especially love a good round of "We Three Kings," but it was abnormally packed with a capital P. And the choir is singing. All of this means it's going to be long, hot, crowded and a little stinky. Still, I'm thanking Jesus that I feel so much better.

 

So we get to the kneeling. The infamous time in Catholic grade school when kids would fall in a clump in their pew from fainting. I start to get hot right at the time the priest chants, "Let us proclaim the mystery of faith" (or has that been changed with the new translation? Dad??), and I fan myself with my missal. I look on both sides of us in our pew and realize we're smashed in the middle with no easy way out. I sit back on the pew because I'm getting really uncomfortable all of a sudden. I look at Jeff and say, "I need air." Then 4 seconds later I look at him and say, "And I need you to come with me." Praise Jesus we're now singing the Great Amen and everyone's standing up.

 

I run over the nice couple sitting next to us. From my feeling warm to needing to get out of that pew right then felt like a matter of 20 seconds. It all happened so fast. I turn to make sure Jeff is behind me, and I actually run into the giant pillar at the back of the aisle because I've completely lost my balance. I'm HOT, can no longer walk straight, my vision has turned into a kaleidoscope, and I think I'm going to barf.

 

Jeff grabs my elbow and leads me around to the back lobby. I'm looking for a bathroom, he's looking for the door. He wins, and pushes me to the left. I look like a drunk. My head feels like a bobble-head. I'm tempted to just give up and crumple to the floor. Way too many people are there to witness this. He opens the door and I collapse against the outside brick wall in an awkward squat and suck in fresh air like I've been drowning. Jeff shoves my head between my legs and asks, "Feel better?" I say, "No." He pushes my head farther, and asks again in about 5 seconds. I say, "Yes." I touch my neck and realize I'm drenched in sweat. He walks me to a bench and says the second he saw my white face in the pew he was ready for 100+ pounds of dead weight to fall on him in the middle of church. He retrieves our coats and we sit in the fresh air for awhile. Holy Epiphany Sunday.

 

We figure my blood sugar must have dropped, despite my normal breakfast routine. We go to Paradise Bakery where I get a giant fruit salad, chicken pesto sandwich, and root beer. The fruit and root beer couldn't get down my throat fast enough. Sweet relief.

 

Murf - enough is enough. Let us move onto the second trimester and put this hangover to rest already.