In the early days - again.

August 18, Newark.

It's the constant sensation of uneasy emptiness in the belly, not quite nauseous, except upon waking up in the morning on a growling stomach, but hollow, a feeling of impending sickness, the constant need to eat but disgust at the idea of food, any food, sweets out for once (and only, unfortunately,) fat banished, the struggle to find something palatable, the impossibility to cook, the mere idea of cooking sickening. Just like the first time. And the smells, the smells, not only the smell of food sickening but any smell, insidious, and unbearable when it's bad, like Dylan's diapers, or the smell of diesels running when we move at night and all the trucks are on. Some days I go to bed with Dylan, at 9:30 PM, exhausted, and sleep til he wakes me up.
I don't want to think about taking care of an infant and a toddler at the same time, not now, not yet.