By Erica KainGetty Images
Last night was typical of my struggles with hyperemesis gravidarum, aka the morning sickness from hell. At 3 a.m., I dutifully trod into the kitchen to make the baby’s bottle, but by the time we were settled into the rocking chair and she was happily drinking, I had to hurl.
I eyed the garbage can in the corner—could I toss my cookies in there with minimal interruption to my daughter’s meal? Should I take her with me to the bathroom and try to hold her in a gentle, comforting manner while puking up my guts? Or should I just ditch her in the crib with a pacifier and make a break for it? I chose option C. Read More
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