Right In Front of My House

Day #24 of 31 Days of Storytelling

Ellie and I were out the door to go to school this morning when I saw the van parked in front of my house.

It looked like my neighbor's van.

And it looked like my neighbor bent over the curb.

I thought she was looking for something.

So I hollered, "Hey, what are you doing?"

The woman looked up.

It wasn't my neighbor.

"I'm pregnant. I am so sick."

She said in a weak, shaky voice.

Oh!

She isn't looking for something. 

She is VOMITING

in the street 

in front of my house.

I told Ellie to get in the car and I quickly ran to her.

I have never seen her before.

I offered her Perrier.

Actually, I first offered her Bubble Water, 

(because that is what we call it around here). 

Then I said mineral water 

(which isn't exactly it either).

Then I said Perrier.

I was nervous.

And anxious to help.

In case you missed it, 

there was someone 
VOMITING 

right in front of my house.

"I will try anything."

she said barely audibly.

I ran back into the house remembering.

Remembering being so sick that I didn't think I could get out of bed.

Remembering being so sick that I couldn't make it inside 

and vomited 

RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE

in the driveway

in our little house in Atlanta. 

Poor thing.

She took the Perrier with shaky hands and thanked me and said she couldn't find the right thing to settle her stomach.

I just said, "You will."

And she left.

I kicked myself for not giving her some of the advice that helped me when I suffered through terrible morning sickness with 2 pregnancies. 

I called Monte and confessed my guilt.

He told me that if I mentioned anything food related the poor woman would've puked on my shoes.

He's probably right.

Then I thought

REALLY thought

about what I could've said.

Pregnancy is so personal.

Every craving.

Every remedy.

It isn't for everybody.

You have to find your own way.

For McDaniel:

I wore sea bands on my wrists when I drove 

(I felt so car sick even in the driver's seat).

I could only stomach tater tots

and Dilly Bars from DQ.

For Ellie:

I could only eat ham salad

and pimiento salad

and deep-fried pork tenderloin sandwiches 

(from a bowling alley in Indiana--long story)

and root beer.

I know, I'm surprised I didn't weigh 400 pounds.

But I was sick for MONTHS. 

I actually lost weight with each of them in the beginning and end. 

I never was one of those go hug Mother Earth, I-am-glowing-with-the-beauty-of-life-growing-inside-me. 

No.

I felt like an alien was implanted to suck the very life out of me 

one 

painful 

hour 

at a time.

We wanted 4 kids.

Monte and I are each 1 of 4 kids.

After my second sick pregnancy 

and McDaniel drawing me pictures of her "fun Mommy" 

and then the "not fun Mommy" laying on the couch,

I decided I couldn't be a "not fun Mommy" to 2 little ones.

They could team up at that point.

And formally protest.

No, Monte was right.

(Is that really the 2nd time I've said that in this post?)

I could not have said anything to the poor woman vomiting right in front of my house.

I certainly have prayed for her.

Monte did ask if it was an appropriate time to thank him for getting a vasectomy.

But THAT is an ENTIRELY different, 

very involved, 

cautionary tale 

that may or may not get told in the confines of this blog.

But you know I am going to ask permission.