Pregnancy.

Pregnancy for me meant vomiting while trying to work.  I don't mean a little nausea.  I mean full blown puking 25-30 times during the work day.  That finally stopped once my doctor found a three drug cocktail that controlled it.  I started each work day getting an IV with fluids and anti-nausea meds. Then I started taking pills every two hours until I went to bed at night.  The extremely unfortunate side effect of that cocktail of drugs was that I would literally fall asleep on my feet at times.  Which inevitably happened when I was in court, never when it would go unnoticed.  Perhaps that is because I'd be sitting at my desk and fall asleep there, only to be awakened by the ringing phone or someone walking into my office.  Or the need to vomit because the drugs only made it better.  They didn't get rid of the problem entirely.  I became quite adept at pulling the car over, cracking open the door and puking on the side of the road, all while avoiding rain, sleet and snow.  That went on for 8 months.  During that 8 months, I barely remember getting off the couch.  I changed my assignment at work so that I wouldn't have to do trials (and thus risk vomiting in front of a jury). I took all 300+ hours of sick leave I had saved up.

It finally stopped at about 8 months in.  It felt like a miracle.  And I had a full two weeks without hurling my guts out.  Then the baby turned and decided it'd be really fun to stand upright and jump around any time I even thought about food, nonetheless when I actually ate.  That in many respects was worse than before because the puking would come without any warning whatsoever.  But it was also better since at least the constant nausea was gone.

I went out on maternity leave a few weeks before my peanut was born.  I had planned to work up to my due date but of course my plan went out the window the day before my baby shower.  I had been unable to feel anything but pins and needles in my feet for weeks by then and walking up and down the three flights of stairs to my office every day was quite a chore to put it mildly.  Yet I was still determined to stick it out.  But then I had a client interview in which my client was complaining about how no one would hire him.  Of course no one would hire him.  He had a god damn pirate beard with beads and feathers and shit in it.  Oh and he was pretty much constantly high.  I told him that I knew a quick fix for a part of his problem.  He of course asked what it was and I felt my scissors in my hand.  Thankfully, I came to my senses before I reached across the desk and cut off his beard.  At that moment, I knew it was time to take my leave....