At five weeks pregnant, the smell of an onion bagel toasting caused me to throw up. Sounds like normal morning sickness, right? But the puking didn’t stop. It was day in and day out—and not just from food smells but from motion, too. At 33 years old, I’d been married for three years, and was ready to have a baby. But I was worried.
The next week, I stopped eating—period. I tried preggie pops, crackers, you name it: Nothing stayed down. I stayed in bed each day and couldn’t even go to work. I lived on ice cubes. I could barely say two words to my (now ex) husband, and I’m a talkative gal, so he could tell something was wrong. Still, he wondered if I was just exaggerating. And while my friends knew I didn’t feel well, they didn’t quite understand what I was going through.