What A Stupid Birthday

As I type this, it is 9:40 on November 16 and I just got done throwing up my chicken noodle soup, which happened to be the first bite of food I’ve had since Monday night.

I woke up in the middle of the night on Monday/Tuesday and spent some quality time with the toilet. I won’t go into details because, well, that’s just gross. Let’s just say that I was a prime candidate for a colonoscopy at that point.

This bug has been going around my family. I was told that the common reactions to this bug are a slight fever, nausea, diarrhea, and serious aches. I would say that they all apply to me, assuming you consider 102 a slight fever and throwing up chicken noodle soup nausea. (Which I don’t, for the record.)

Here’s what really sucks. I rarely get sick. Here’s what really sucks more. Wednesday, November 17 is my 26th birthday. Ugh. You can bet your healthy hiney that I won’t be celebrating with a nice birthday meal. Lame.

I had planned to write a post about how this time last year, I wasn’t even pregnant. Think about what has happened in the past year. While Jansen was totally planned for, there is still no way of anticipating where you’re life will actually be at a certain point in time. All the imagining in the world would never have come up with this beautiful baby.

But I do have this beautiful baby and he is better than anything I ever imagined, greater than anything I could dream up. And now I am having the birthday I never could imagined. A baby I can’t cuddle, a husband I can’t go to dinner with, a day spent with my bed and the toilet.

Bummer.

(Editors Note: Yesterday I forgot to mention that Stephen is also one of my favorite smells, probably THE best smell. I don’t know how I forgot that but I think I need to right my wrong.)