Last night I woke up at about 3:00, and I couldn’t get back to sleep because I was too queasy. I finally got up and did a few chores: labeling photos (from July–I’m more than a little behind on this chore), emptying the dish rack, etc., while drinking tea and eating saltines. I tried going back to bed around 4:00, but felt so very, very queasy I had to get up again. At 5:30 I felt a little better, and very carefully lay back down, and felt well enough to drift off. At 6:15, William came in to tell me there was a spider in his room.

So, morning sickness again. One of the few reasons I was glad I was done having babies was that I was done with morning sickness. The weeks of it seem endless. I think some people think it’s just a little touch of wooziness, and of course that’s all some women get: one of my friends assured me that if I nibbled a saltine first thing in the morning and stopped lying around so much, I’d feel better—making it clear to me that she didn’t deal with the level of morning sickness I’m dealing with. Here is what it’s like: it’s like having stomach flu for nine weeks. Anyone could be excused for going INSANE in such a situation.