The Gag Reflex

It was evident early in life that my gag reflex was exceptional. I spent hours sitting at the table trying to choke down bits of liver because the slightest taste would trigger responses of rejection from my body. I remember reclining in the dentist's chair with the fluoridated-goo-filled tray in my mouth. My stomach muscles heaved as it felt like that foul tray and taste was threatening to lodge itself in my throat and choke me senseless. 

It isn't just the typical gross-food tastes like liver and Brussels sprouts that activate the reflex. Even food as seemingly innocuous yogurt can make gag. I can happily be eating my favorite flavor of the creamy substance, when all at once, the texture will feel wrong, and my throat will shut down and refuse to let any more pass.

And odors. It is a small major miracle that I never threw up on any of my kids while changing their diapers. This is not to say that I didn't hold my breath or cover my nose up with my shirt whenever possible. I was dry-heaving quite a lot when things were extra-messy. And the only time I actually threw up was when Finley had the runs and removed her diaper during nap-time. So I figure there mast have been a special anti-gag hormone my body created along with the baby. That, coupled with a steeling of the mind, quieted my gag reflex to the point I thought I was largely done with gagging as long as I didn't overwhelm my senses with something utterly disgusting.

About the same time we bought the calves this year, I came down with a bad cold. The dehydration that came with taking decongestants and that nastiness of having thick snot caught in that junction between nasal passage and throat just made me feel sick. On top of that, I was going out twice a day to feed the calves who can't seem to help but sit in their own poo. I would lug the bottles out to the stinky calves and have to watch as the they slurped down their milk, thick ropes of milk-spit froth forming at the corners of their mouths. It was rough. 

I thought I would be done with the gagging when the cold cleared up, but it's only gotten worse. Now that the calves are older and bolder, they slorp and smack their bottles empty. The sound alone can make me gag. Once finished, they nose and suck their way onto another calf's bottle who hasn't finished yet, all the while, slinging their meringue-thick slobber everywhere, leaving me a slimy mess to wash. (I'm gagging as I type.)

I'm hoping I can get things back under control by August. We are going to be grandparents, and I really don't want to be gagging or throwing up around (or on) the kid.