The embryo has earned it's official nickname.  Ybab.  It's just 'baby' backwards.  Why, you ask?  Simple.  At first, I had no morning sickness, and lo, I was so very grateful to the powers that be.  And then, it kicked in with a vengeance and woe, I was so very downtrodden, limp haired, and bedraggled.  Now it seems as though I have mastered the sickness and you will never friggin' believe what works…  Eating the worst food possible.  That's right – I can keep down pickles and enchiladas, but not cottage cheese and yogurt.  Neither rice cereal (like cream of wheat, only, you know, not wheat) nor fruit smoothies will maintain residence in my stomach for more than 15 minutes, but give me a swig of pickle juice, a cheese enchilada with red sauce and refried beans, and we're golden for at least two hours.  How backwards is that? 

Ybab (eee-bab) is either a girl, or a boy who marches to his own drum entirely.  With both boys, it was only bland foods, and just about every thing had to have sour cream.  When I say, "had to have," what I really mean is that every thing was SMOTHERED in sour cream.  This time, the mere mention of it makes me gag… 


Thus far, I have been awake for over 4 hours and have yet to upchuck.  I am seriously thinking starting each day with an enchilada wouldn't be so bad…  Even if they are $4.00 each because they're gluten free.  I could totally stock my entire deep freeze with them if it meant I wouldn't be throwing up all day.  On second thought, that's $120.00 a month (roughly, of course).  Think the grocer would give me a multiple case discount?

Yesterday I begged for the Zofran, but if I can keep this pattern working, between the vitamin B6 three times a day, the Unisom a few nights here and there, and ginger ale, I might be able to forego the Zofran after all.  While that completely wipes it out for me, I'd rather still feel some nausea and have an occassional meet-n-greet with the porcelain god and keep my baby-makin' parts drug-free. 

Despite my occupation and repeat performance, it still amazes me that my body, my body, is creating another human.  In June, I was facing multiple organ failure.  My liver was on the verge of calling it quits, and my kidneys were functioning well below par.  My heart rate was soaring, but my blood pressure was too low.  My blood sugar was crashing all the time…  It was not fun.

Now I'm building a baby.  Somite by somite, organ by organ, my body is building a baby.  How awesome is that?  Maybe it's the hippie in me, but every birth brings me to tears, and every pregnancy is still a miracle.  Of all the things that can go awry, the human race is, the majority of the time, a huge success story.  I think of all the conditions, birth defects, malformations, and other afflictions I know of, and I am so grateful for the two healthy children I have.  I silently hope for a lucky third.  I wish for all the parents who don't know what healthy children are like, or who never got to see their children grow up because of an affliction.  I wonder, constantly, what I did to earn such remarkable babies.  What did I do to earn my place in the lives of so many families?  I take a minute every day to just ponder and appreciate all the miracles in my life…  At the top of the list is always DH, my boys, Ybab, and my closest friends and family.