And my body said, "Fuck that noise"

So, for the past few weeks I've been eagerly anticipating the onset of the lovely second trimester. The Glow, the Energy, the Peace. Based on the events of Thursday night, I can safely say it hasn't arrived yet.

Chris and I were relaxing, watching a movie, and I was preparing to head out to a choir rehearsal. Everything was fine. I'd been migraine-free for about a week, and I was really happy about that. Looking forward to a good evening.

I made myself a can of tomato soup and a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches - perfect comfort food. Just before settling down to eat, with a bottle of water, a package of crackers, and my mealtime vitamins and supplements close at hand, I went upstairs and changed out of my pre-pregnancy jeans into more roomy, comfortable, maternity jeans. Ahhhh.

I ate my soup with plenty of crackers, devoured my sandwiches, and drank about half my bottle of water. I was happy and content. For about five minutes.

Then, very quickly, I became incredibly uncomfortable. I didn't even understand what the problem was. I switched off the dishwasher, thinking the noise was irritating me. I went outside to get some fresh air as I felt really hot all of a sudden. I finally went into our downstairs bathroom - but once I was there, I wasn't exactly sure what I needed to do there to feel better.

For the next 20 minutes, I alternated between the two classic Toilet Usage positions, as my body violently evacuated the entire contents of my innards, through any applicable orifice. Although the process was very painful and frightening, the waiting beforehand was the worst part, as I sat on the toilet and wondered what the hell was happening to me, why my abdomen was full of shooting pains, and what I was supposed to do about it. I even got a titch hysterical because I just didn't know what was wrong. Once my body started, er, emptying, I thought, "Oh, okay, *that's* the problem."

I had taken off all my clothes and was lying on the bathroom floor by the time Chris knocked on the door and asked if I was okay. I almost was, by then, though a little nervous to get too far away from the bathroom. I crawled out and sat with him for a few minutes on the cold floor - I was desperate to cool off. He opened the door to the garage so the cold air would come right in. He also brought me a bottle of water, then called my choir director to let him know I wouldn't be at rehearsal.

Although I felt better about half an hour later, I'm glad I didn't go to choir, because that process tired me the hell OUT.

Two hours later, my stomach told me it needed to eat, and after giving it a little lecture ("Oh, you want me to feed you, after what you did last time? What makes you think you deserve it?") I had some fried rice and a few pieces of cheese. Yummy.

After talking it over with Chris, I think what happened is that I had too much hot food, too fast. I hadn't felt nauseous or headachey all day, so it can't be attributed to that. But Chris suggested that both my stomach and my intenstines have less room now, as the uterus continues to grow and take up more real estate, so eating so much food - especially hot food, when I am so prone to being overheated these days - caused my system to go on full alert and just reject everything, instantly. Lesson learned.

I had hoped to make this entry amusing, which I guess I have failed to do, so I'll close with Chris's brilliant line, later in the evening:
"You should drink some more water and make sure you're hydrated. After all, you lost a buttload of fluids."

HAAAAAAAA.