We came down to San Diego to spend a week in the sunshine. Unfortunately the pregnancy-sickness has continued unabated. In fact, it might be worse now than a few weeks ago. It starts as soon as I eat breakfast now, so there is pretty much no time of day that I feel okay. Last night I came as close to actually throwing up as I have all pregnancy. It came over me suddenly as I was getting ready for bed – heaving of the stomach, cold sweats and all. But I am a no-puke pro and proved it again. I am taking a mild sleeping pill nightly (Unisom, approved for pregnancy) because I toss and turn and get up so much. I didn’t want to throw up because I had already taken the pill and then wouldn’t know if I could take another. I tell you – the fun never ends!

Meanwhile, Elan has had a rough few weeks. He has been fussing a lot. This kid knows how to fuss! I thought coming down to SD would shift his energy for the better, but mostly that hasn’t been the case. So we’ve got a barely-functional mama, a fussy & crabby child, and a poor husband trying to look after us both but not really able to help either of us, in my case because my problem isn’t fix-able and in Elan’s case because we have no idea why he’s acting like this. Today Elan is refusing to eat. It appears he bit his cheek last night and it is still bothering him. There’s a tiny little red mark when you look inside his mouth. As a frequent canker-sore-sufferer, I have compassion for how bad mouth pain can be. But I cannot stomach the level of fuss my child has poured out today and how ridiculous he’s being not even trying different foods to see if he can get them down. And just in case you think I’m being overly dramatic – the child freaked out over chocolate ice cream!
Our saving grace is that the sun is out and the ocean is near. We’ve been taking excursions to beautiful places, and I can appreciate beauty despite feeling like crap. Of course, right now it’s 3 p.m. and I’m in bed so mostly what I’m appreciating is horizontality and the fact that the fussing downstairs is currently muted by several walls and doors.
I’ll be 12 weeks on Friday. I thought I might be feeling better around now, but now I’m starting to think I might have to hold out till the 14-week mark to see improvement. If two and a half weeks sounds like a short time to you, please keep that thought to yourself. After six and a half weeks of permanent stomach flu-like symptoms plus profound fatigue, my perspective of time has shifted and my sense of humor is threadbare.
I’m supposed to be doing screenplay work this afternoon, in preparation for the meeting my writing partner and I are having down here all weekend. But instead I think I’m going to throw the fussy child and poor husband in the car and go down to the beach. Everything seems better against the background of ocean waves.