Last night I couldn’t sleep. It was 1am, then it was (all of a sudden) 2am. Wil was at work. I was dizzy, nauseated, and my heartburn was terrible. I was tasting and re-tasting the chili I made for dinner. Ari was knocked out on the couch, and I wanted to follow suit but I just could not sleep. The baby was swimming around in my uterus at a rapid pace, looking for a suitable organ to kick.
Finally, I relented and called my mom.
“Mom, I can’t sleep. I feel like I’m going to vomit, but I can’t.”
It was 2:30am. She didn’t hesitate. She climbed three flights of stairs to my apartment, and sat by my side as I threw up the entire contents of my stomach into a white plastic garbage can.
Meanwhile Ari was shouting:
“Mommy! You no throw up!”
“It’s okay, honey,” My mom said to Ari as I was detoxing my system “Mommy is going to be okay.”
I’m okay. But it’s only because of my amazing mother.