For starters, I’ve always bragged about having an iron stomach. I’ve thrown up a total of 6 times in my life–and my Mom was at my side for all of them. Even when I was 25 and came down with the stomach flu I managed to time it during a visit to my parent’s house. As if I were a little girl again, Mom was right beside me as I yakked into a waste basket in her bathroom. I’ve never succumb to so much alcohol that I’ve thrown up–although there were probably times when I should have. I would rather suffer through a really terrible meal or a case of over-eating then endure sore stomach muscles and bad barf breath. I certainly am not one of those women who constantly finds a reason to throw up because of, say, a head cold or stress or something silly. So, as you can imagine, this new round nausea is a strange beast to tame.

The only real time my nausea leaves me is when I’m stuffed full…like when we went to a pub in Georgetown and I decided, YES, I’m pregnant and should really pack it in. This was a few hours before the dreaded hospital tour at Swedish. Josh was going because he was a champ, (although the idea of hanging around a bunch of nervous pregnant couples while traipsing around a hospital did sound a bit like hell to me too). Josh needed a beer or two before the tour. I was still riding high on my secret baby news and an enormous bub-style bacon cheese burger sounded like just the ticket (this was also only at 5 weeks along). After my burger arrived it was so sensational that a friend of Josh’s stopped by our table to admire my enormous dinner. “I just hate it when skinny people eat whatever they want!” She joked. “Har har,” I chimed, secretly agreeing with her, (and to my credit I did sub the fries for a garden salad…it’s just that the burger was so BIG).

I spent the tour in a bloated state of burger, bacon, and benevolence. Five couples attended the tour with us. One woman was so deathly afraid of hospitals she almost fainted (I know this because she was on my UW Hospital tour with me two days later and confided that Swedish almost did her in). I suppose I’m spoiled with my adequate experience with hospitals. You know, a surgery here, a surgery there…I’ve been visiting hospitals since I was 5 (tubes were put in my eardrums). I’ve had my tonsils removed (do they even do that anymore?). I’ve had tissue grafts (2 of them) on my right ear drum and finally a cartilage graft. I’ve been lucky: no experiences with malpractice, no terrible cases of mis-communication or wrong prescriptions filled. For the most part, my hospital experiences were efficient and fast. Oh sure, during my last hospital stint, my otologist was kind of an asshole and removed a keloid scar even when I assured him he didn’t have to. The anesthesiologist added a certain kind of medicine too soon to my blood stream causing me to gasp for air before finally going under. And I have never, ever, been able to accept an I.V needle gracefully. However, all this experience has provided a fairly healthy view of hospitals.

However, when you look at what’s a fairly natural phenomena: pregnancy, birth, infant, etc. and mix it up with the medical industry, I can see how some anxiety might build.