Dive No More

We have been frequenting our local dive coffee shop since we moved into our house six years ago.  We’ve walked there to grab our lattes and bacon, egg and cheeses before we had kids, during both pregnancies and with the little ones in their strollers countless times.  It’s got a cool Seattle-like vibe and we feel hip and townie when we go there. This place is delicious, dingy and disgusting all at once.  I guess we were due.
My husband, the big girl and I got food poisoning on Sunday night.  Fortunately, she got it the least and most thankfully, the little one was spared because she had refused to eat with us there that morning.  Our new family taste tester took one bite and spit out the sandwich with an adamant “NO!”  The rest of us thought nothing of it and continued to eat the sandwiches not knowing how sick we would be only hours later.
It started at 2am when the big girl came in and said her tummy was “hot” then proceeded to throw up.  At this time, my husband got sick too.  I figured they had just picked up a virus at swim class that morning (the only place they’d been without me this weekend).  Mine didn’t hit until around noon when the big girl was starting to feel better.  Luckily, my parents had just returned from their vacation and were able to come over with chicken soup and popsicles and to watch the girls while we slept and got sick for the remainder of the day.
This is only the second time I’ve ever seen my husband come home early from work (yes, he put in a half day even feeling as miserable as he was).  While I was lying there, I was thinking about how this discomfort was even worse than any moment of my recovery from either of my surgeries, of late. Instead, I was reminded of how I felt when I was pregnant.  During those first trimesters, the morning sickness was overwhelmingly uncomfortable and after yesterday, I don’t know that I can do it again.  I’m always trying to find a way to get my husband to understand what those first 16-18 weeks feels like.  Usually I go the hangover route, “Think about your worst hangover and then think about it lasting for four months.” We’ve rarely had the chance to go out hard enough to get a hangover since they were born, so that wasn’t really working. I seized this opportunity.  “Hey, you know how shitty you feel right now?”  “Yeah,” he croaked. “That’s how I felt carrying both of our kids.”  “Wow, that really sucks.”  Finally, he gets it and that’s all I needed. That moment of empathy, the fact that the baby didn’t get sick at all, that the big girl had a relatively mild case, and that I now weigh what I did on my wedding day are all the silver linings of this unfortunate event.  There always seems to be at least one.

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