My stomach rolled as I ran to the bathroom. My morning ritual about to be performed for the second time as I heaved whatever contents my stomach had left into the toilet. “God, this is so fucking gross.” I heaved again, hoping to God it would be the last. “Megs, what can I do?” Troy asked helplessly from the door, the one I’d tried in vain to close before doubling over and puking my guts out. It was bad enough I had to witness it; I didn’t want an audience. It had been two weeks since we’d found out a little life was growing inside me and within that two weeks, my body had already started to change. The biggest change seemed to be the relationship I was now in with the bathroom. I’d contemplated changing my status on Facebook; we were inseparable these days. “Please don’t watch.” I waved him off, mortified. “I’m almost done.” My hands braced either side of the cold tiled wall as my body hovered in limbo, waiting for the next wave of nausea to rip through me.
