I was sitting in bed cursing pregnancy and baby #2/Mason/Jack/Bobert/Gus/Harold.
I have been throwing up everyday. I can't tell you how many good meals I've wasted lately.
For months I have based my decisions on what to eat by how good I think it will taste when I throw it up. Taco bell nacho cheese is surprisingly good on the way back up..... Prime rib with horseradish and a side salad? No.
You'd think that since I throw up a ton, I wouldn't have poop problems. But I do. I get unbelievably constipated.
I also found out I had to start going to a high-risk doctor because my last baby jacked up my cervix during childbirth. Great. I hate doctors in general, but especially crotch doctors.
I was exhausted and feeling sorry for myself. Being pregnant sucks on days when your a wussy. Pee-Baby was laying by me watching Netflix and holding his monster trucks.
I was literally in the middle of an internal tirade against my fetus for making 9 months of my life harder.
Baby Ryan dropped his toys, leaned over and hugged me. Then he looked up at me and said "Mommy, I'm happy!" in his squeaky 2 year old voice.
I don't know if he was commenting on his life in general or the fact that I gave him candy for breakfast and let him watch Monster Truck Madness.
Either way it was touching.
I felt like the most ungrateful person ever..... with a side of jerk and an a-hole on top.
(BTW, I should draw a picture of that when I'm bored.)
9 months of nasty bodily functions, exhaustion, and doctors visits are sooooooo worth it.
