Morning Sickness

I don’t know if there was ever a time before becoming pregnant that I ever became a toilet expert. I used to discreetly use the toilet and I had all these potpourri baskets, scented candles, and lovely décor in the restroom. I still don’t know why I was dressing the place like a showroom, but I did nevertheless.
Let me tell you, after two solid weeks of unending morning sickness, I could give you intimate details of the commode. Every nuance of that porcelain beauty was etched into my mind. I knew where all the water spigots were, the amount of time for it to refill after flushing...the whole nine yards.
I had my face in a place where a face was not meant to reside.
My mind was searching and I had a true moment of wonder as I contemplated a new life within me and my mind was scrambling to find a reason why my only celebration of that fact seemed to be in the bathroom facing where only unmentionables should visit. In the end, the potpourri, the scented candles, and the toilet fuzzy cover went to the trash can. A ill woman can become very bitter after spending too much time in a certain small unwelcome place. Not to mention that any flowery scent at all would send me right back to where I began and I wasn’t going down that road again for any candle or bowl of weeds.
Bottles of sweet cherry anti-nausea liquid and cola-flavored syrup replaced potpourri and moist toilettes replaced candles. In fact, it looked like a mini hospital. Instead of joyous dinners and glasses of sparkling juice to celebrate our early married days and impending parenthood, we were drinking a stirred down white soda over saltines.
One of the wonderful ironies of this is the fact that plumbers are super impressed at my knowledge of the stool. (smile)