I took the first pill yesterday afternoon. One more this morning. And, let me tell you, this stuff is a freaking miracle. No nausea; my breakfast stayed down for the first time in 11 weeks; a girl could get used to this. I practically cried with happiness.
Until the constipation.
I have decided that pregnancy, otherwise known in my house as the Festival of Gastro-Intestinal Distress, is a nine-month exercise in losing control. This is okay, because parenting is probably an 18-year exercise in the same. But my innards are getting a little worn out, to say the least.
After no relief well into the afternoon today, I came home and googled the name of the drug I'm taking and "constipation." And proceeded to read a MOUNTAIN of horror stories from pregnant women involving the length of time before this resolved (6 days, sweet Lord), enemas (help me), some odd suggestion involving milk of magnesia and dark karo syrup (almost tried that one) and enough complaints to make me weep at the prospect of having to give up my sweet miracle drug. Without getting even more TMI than I already have - Houston, we no longer have quite as significant a problem.
The whole time in the bathroom, all I could think was, "oh my god, this is by far the smallest thing that's coming out of my body in the next five months and if I can't handle this, WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?" I may have been converted to the epidural as of today.
In better news, I want to eat! I'm hungry! So that's good. Let's hope everything else...works itself out.