I’ve become a peppermint junkie. I’ve always been the kind of person who swiped more than her fare share of mints when leaving a restaurant, but now, I buy them in bulk.  The mints are stuffed in my pockets, cup holders in the car, purse, desk drawers, everywhere I can think of, because they're the only thing that calms my stomach. One night at the tail-end of week six of my pregnancy, while eating salmon for dinner with my folks, I commented on my lack of morning sickness. It may even have bordered on bragging. Oh, the folly of the ignorant. That same night, I woke up suddenly – the salmon was staging a violent revolt in my stomach. I had dry heaves for hours, and alternated between hovering over the bowl and rolling from side to side while moaning. The moans seemed to help my stomach almost as much as the peppermints.

Sweets get to me, too. Friends bought me cupcakes for a late birthday celebration, and the idea of eating cake seemed as foul as eating raw squid, whereas pre-pregnancy I may have eaten four cupcakes in one sitting, and then had another two on the way home. Later, I made the mistake of drinking a fizzy can of juice and had to fight the mixture of sweet bubbles and bile for an afternoon. Asparagus, greasy fast food breakfast sandwiches on television commercials, seafood boullaibase, shrimp scampi, rice crispy treats, and pie have all made me avert my eyes, change the channel, leave the room, or make my husband eat outside. It's hard to even type the word salmon. Toast, any sort of potatoes (especially in tot form), and tomato soup became my staples.

For a short time, I managed the almost-constant land-locked sea-sickness and kept down food, but I knew my defenses were becoming weakened and overstretched. I needed to call in reinforcements but, beyond the peppermints and bland crackers on hand at all times, I wasn’t sure what else to try. At about week seven and a half, I ate a piece of toast and a grapefruit and, about an hour later, my stomach decided it was no longer a fan of citrus, and the grapefruit came back up. Usually, I eat whole grains and vegetables and fruits, but just the idea of oatmeal with raisins is enough to send me running for a peppermint. This potato and tomato diet is screwing with my healthy-eating-during-pregnancy-plan.

From then on, I threw up every other day – usually just once, but with a few all-night vomit sessions thrown in to add a little variety.

All bathrooms soon made me gag, even when clean. One afternoon, the water was shut off in my office building – without notice – so people continued to use the bathroom, creating a stopped-up situation in half of the toilets, which did not help the gagging situation. The smell of smokers also lingers in the bathroom, and, though I’ve never been a big fan of the scent, I used to be able to stand it without throwing up. While at Pompeii (during our pre-baby trip to Italy at about eleven weeks pregnant - more on that later), after getting lost in the ruins while searching for the brothel and then almost having to run to make it to the nearest bathroom, I used what was no more than a glorified portapotty – it was one of those pay toilets that you sometimes see on the street, though it was free there, and, after the woman before me used it and went out, the door self-locked and a loud gushing sound ensued for about five minutes. When the door opened, everything inside – including all of the trash that had not made it in to the neat receptacle tucked in the wall – was dripping wet, but it was not exactly clean. The self-cleaning function seemed to only include water, not disinfectant, and so it only served to leave the toilet wet and dirty, whereas without the cleaning it would have been dry and filthy. Who knows what would have been better? Needless to say, it was not a pleasant peeing experience. The only bathroom that’s safe is the one I’ve thrown up in the most – my own – but it doesn’t seem to stimulate the gagging.

At just over twelve weeks, the nausea subsided, and I no longer had to pop a peppermint every fifteen minutes. At around that time, I drove up to Boulder to visit friends and to meet their three week old, devastatingly handsome baby, Roarke. 

Roarke's momma told me about this fantastic anti-morning sickness potion - Ginger Wonder Syrup.  I picked some up the next day and a spoonful of the stuff helped sooth my stomach for a bit, and worked even better than peppermints.  Of course, this was at the point when the sickness was already decreasing.  Oh well.  At least I know about it for any future pregnancies.

I made it two weeks without throwing up. And then, in the middle of the night, I had to run to the bathroom and threw up chicken and apple sausage, yams, and peas, breaking my no-puking streak. Damn. A few days later, in the middle of brushing my teeth, I again threw up – which really left a nice, clean feeling in my mouth. Now, at 19 weeks, I seem to be able to keep food down, but, if I go too long, and too long while pregnant is about three hours, without eating, I start violently gagging again. Yuck.