Rite of Passage?

Warning: Do not read if you’re the sort whose digestive tract throws itself into reverse if you think about other people who are worshipping the porcelain god.

Note to self: Do not whine to your blog about how your pregnancy symptoms seem less severe today, lest you end up hurling bile into the faculty toilet while your lunch heats up.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have finally encountered that lovely prenatal rite of passage: I threw up. At work.


I think I may have mentioned before that I’m not prone to vomiting; I think I’ve probably thrown up twice in my adult life, before today. Today’s adventure in regurgitation reminded me of a very unpleasant fact: Due to my lovely large (and inter-connected) sinuses, I am a lousy vomiter. When I throw up, my nose and tear ducts feel the need to get in on the action. I’d like to believe that everyone experiences this to one degree or another, but I know I’m more prone to crappy stuff like this than the average bear. (I wrote about my freakishness several years ago, if you’re interested in the KB Sideshow; you’ll notice therein that today’s fun was a replay of past experiences.)

I’ve heard stories about pregnant ladies who can discretely disgorge, puking politely and quietly into the nearest receptacle and then calmly carrying on with their day. Friends, let me just share with you my sincere hope that no one walked past the faculty bathroom at about 12:30 today — or if they did, that they came to the logical conclusion that someone was bludgeoning a goat in there. These were not human noises.

Having survived my first (and hey, I’d be COMPLETELY OKAY if this were the last) physical manifestation of “morning sickness,” I then had to return to my teaching job with bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, a throat scorched with stomach acid, and a garbage can close at hand. Thank goodness I keep a toothbrush at school.

And after school: free flu shot clinic. Today is just totally an awesome day.


3 thoughts on “Rite of Passage?

  1. Ugh. I’m SO SORRY! A well known fact about me is that I don’t “do” vomit. EVERYTHING else, I’m okay with. Broken bones? I’m on it. Spurting blood, seizures, rashes, I’m your girl. If you’re puking, you’re on your own. I have been the first person on fatal accident scenes (two of them, in fact), I have held seizing children, and I helped my mother die of cancer, but I can’t handle the puke.

    My deepest wish for you is that this passes very, very quickly.

  2. …I’m with Mrs Chili (although overly bloody scenes make me overheat and break into a cold sweat, and lead to feeling faint if I don’t sit down). I’m lucky in that being sick to my stomach usually sounds like someone choking or coughing. He won’t appreciate it, but zee boi? So over the top on the noises that I cannot be in the same building, nevermind the same room to try and hold his hair for him.

  3. Pingback: Grumbly « Did You Have Juice?

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