The first night we discovered I was pregnant, I farted all night. I don’t fart normally, so Bal, who was still doubting I really was pregnant, started to believe. He would have laughed and made fun of me all night had the smell not been so horrific. As it was, on our first night knowing we created a child together, I farted myself to sleep, in the spare room.
It would be 2 more weeks before morning sickness would hit. I might have had some glow had the morning part been true. Instead, 24-7 sickness prevailed. I vomited twice a day. Dry-heaved many, many more times than that. Suffered through constant and varying degrees of nausea.
Glowing pregnant woman my ass. Rather, I was a pasty white, doubled-over, cranky bitch with gas.