Bad infertile blogger, bad, BAD. Picking on the emotionally sensitive knocked up puke fountains.
Here’s my dirty little secret though.
Guess how I lost all that weight?
I puked. And puked like a SUPER STAR.
I got pregnant at around 170 lbs.
I went into the hospital at 40 weeks weighing 150 lbs.
I went home from the hospital with a baby at 120 lbs. in size four jeans. (HAH!)
I spent hours a week with IV’s in my arm.
I racked up a $2,839 bill on Zofran alone, AFTER INSURANCE.
I puked eight to ten times a day, every day.
My milk never came in because I was so emaciated by the time I was done.
I even spent three days involuntarily committed to a psych ward. (this post is coming, and it’s going to be a hard one.)
AND YOU BETTER BELIEVE I BITCHED AND MOANED.
Because guess what? Even though I worked SO HARD to get knocked up and I wanted it SO BAD, I don’t like to puke.
And I really don’t like to puke multiple times a day.
So I complained. A lot. Just ask Cody.
“Cody, did she complain a lot when she was pregnant?”
“DUDE, She didn’t shut up.”
Again, I rely on Megan’s post about the hierarchy of suffering.
Yes, someone is always going to have it worse.
There are women who have died from the condition that I had.
But that doesn’t make my situation not suck for me.
Keep on keeping on with the morning sickness talk.
Because if, and when, I ever get pregnant again I’ll puke you all under the table AND I’ll post pictures.
‘Cause that’s how I roll.