Chronicles of a Nauseous Preggo

I’m so beyond thrilled to be PREGNANT again! I feel indebted, overjoyed and just generally psyched. But… Something happens to me when I’m pregnant. Something I completely forgot about, which I can only attest to God’s miraculous erasing of certain memories so that women continue to procreate.

I. Get. SICK. Not just a little bit sick. Overwhelming nausea to the point of death, 24/7. It’s so debilitating that I have to take medication and I can’t leave the couch for weeks. It follows me around like a ghastly imaginary friend that I can only wish was imaginary. Everything is HARD: Talking, breathing, keeping food down, let alone caring for a raging toddler. My personality is momentarily sucked out of me as I switch to a very sad autopilot mode of surviving things minute by minute. I had to miss one of my most precious friend’s weddings in Denver due to this horrible sickness. And another dear soul sister’s bridal shower. And I can’t even count how many ACTUAL showers I’ve missed. We won’t talk about that.

I also get really, really huge when I’m pregnant, but that’s another post for another day soon. If you get extra sick and fat when you’re pregnant, too, I am virtually hugging you so very tight right now. WE CAN DO IT!!! Also, if you see me anytime soon, please don’t break my heart by asking if I’m due any day. Appearances can be devious but I promise I have six months to go.

With Emerson, the revolting sickness lasted for five whole months. I threw up every single day for that time period. Even after that, I never felt great, and couldn’t keep crazy foods down—and by “crazy” I mean fruits, vegetables, fish, all the things I usually LOVE and that healthy human beings should eat. My diet turned from well-balanced, nutritious and colorful to very, very carby and incredibly WHITE: bagels, cream cheese, quesadillas, pizza, pasta and crackers. And Trader Joe’s Cracked Wheat Sourdough Bread, pretty much by the half-loaf. What a WONDER I gained so much weight! Bleached starches and cheeses became my two basic food groups.

THANKFULLY, just barely into my second trimester, I feel a little better this time around! I ate PROTEIN last night, which is a really huge deal for pregnant Me. I still throw up about three times a week, but I can finally get off the couch to see daylight thanks to a lovely invention called Zofran. Sure, the bad moments still assault me when I least expect them, but they’re more like a shocking, quick slap than a miserable, day-long beating. That probably sounds dramatic if you’ve never been Pregnant Sick, but maybe you’d call it an understatement if you’ve personally known the joy. Anyway, maybe the easing of pain means I’m having a BOY, or maybe it’s another GIRL who’s a little less feisty. (We’ll find out TONIGHT! Hooray!)

Needless to say, I’ve had a LOT of time over the past several months to sit (heck, lay), think and determine what I can possibly take from this season of misery. (With Disney movies playing in the background, of course.) How am I supposed to respond when the Big Prayed-For Thing gets HARD? What can I learn from being in a state of incapacitating physical ailment—and how do some brave people deal with sickness for years? And how about when I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel? It’s there, right?! Babies are good?! I wanted this for a reason?!

Here are a few things I’m learning from this little rascal I’m carrying, who, regardless of gender and temperament, better have perfected its backflips in the last 14 weeks!

1. When the Big Prayed-For Thing Gets HARD—For months, I prayed and hoped for a pregnancy. No sooner did it arrive than I found myself vomiting on the couch, depleted, physically at the end of myself. This has resulted in complex emotions: So much gratitude mingled with so much misery. After praying so long and so hard for this baby, am I allowed to acknowledge that… Huh… This part of it actually stinks?

I’ve been feeling a lot of guilt for once again hating pregnancy. But, I’m trying to let go of that because I think it’s a waste of energy and certainly not doing anything for my baby. Sometimes the best things are also the hardest. In fact, nearly every blessing in my life—every one of the most prayed-for things—has come with a big side of struggle, perseverance and growth.

Getting into grad school for writing: THANKS, GOD! Wait. It’s actually really hard to write about my feelings and read them aloud to strangers in class before they go around in a circle to offer critiques—i.e., lashings. And don’t get me started on surviving that season of commuting to L.A. for night classes and financial survival as newlyweds!

But it was one of the best things EVER.

Becoming a mom, the first time: THANKS, GOD! Huh. Pregnancy is horrendous and motherhood isn’t so easy. It’s actually one MOTHER of a job.

It’s also the VERY best.

Just because the things we’re blessed with often bring challenges, doesn’t mean we have to go on pretending that YAY! Everything’s PERFECT now that we have the THING! Life is just hard sometimes. Let’s let go of the guilt! I’m learning to continue leaning on the people who love me and, more importantly, continuing to ask God for strength in new ways as the seasons change. It’s OK to need; we were actually built for it.

2. When You Really, Really Need Other People—When it comes to getting stuff DONE, I tend to be independent. I know what I can do, so I do it. I’m pretty good at checking off my to-dos and feeling (mostly) accomplished at the end of my days. Motherhood challenges this, of course, but mostly I do all right. (Doug, sssshhh! Get back to work and stop reading my blog!)

Enter: PREGNANCY! You guys, I just crumble. I sleep too late in the mornings. I nap when Emerson naps. My house is a mess, my outfits don’t match, my daughter eats too many fish sticks. And working out? Just forget about it!

My insides fight to resist it, but this is a time when I really, really need other people. The sickness is worst at night, right when poor Doug gets home. But for the last three months, every single night, with total joy and a genuine smile, he has finished the dishes, bathed our daughter, read her books, brushed her teeth and kissed her goodnight. He has picked up dinner, cleaned up the house, and told me I’ve never been prettier. It’s hard for me to need him so much, but it’s also kind of beautiful, because it turns out he thrives on serving me. He hides this great talent most other times. Kidding! I married a handsome saint.

So I’m letting my loved ones help me. It’s humbling, hard and terrific. My mom has extra-extra assisted with Emerson. Friends have brought me tea, lunch and hugs. My sister, Heather, and precious friend, Lauren, sent me this package from Nashville and made me cry. I feel so blessed and also super compelled to take action when the people I adore are in need.

3. When You Can’t See the Light and Just Have to Trust That It’s There—This one’s hard. I’ve had a lot of really bad days in the last several months. Crying, puking, unable to care for my daughter or buy food for my poor, starving family. Thank goodness for loved ones and take-out!

The truth is, the light can be hard to see when your head’s in a toilet bowl. But forcing myself to look extra hard for the truth and hope has proved to be worth it, every time, times a million. What is the truth? I’m having a baby! What is the hope? My little Emerson. She is my ultimate light at the end of the tunnel. She is the magnificent beauty my body’s working so very hard to create. When Emerson starts dancing, I can see flickers in the pitch-black dark. When she asks for her “booooooooots” and her “booooow,” I can even see moonbeams. When she strokes my back and kisses my cheek after I’ve thrown up, I can see straight-up sunshine, because nobody taught her “compassion.” It is in her little heart to offer comfort when somebody needs it.

The light doesn’t make the nausea go away, but just for a second, I can see beyond it to the end of this finite season of intimacy with poor bathrooms everywhere. And I can see myself with the second-born baby I prayed for—not thinking about the sickness that got me there or the pounds I will have to lose—but just holding that life in my arms and thanking God for listening when I asked if He would maybe consider trusting me such an incredible gift.

“We often pray to be delivered from afflictions, and even trust God that we will be. But we do not pray that He would make us what we should be while in the midst of the afflictions. Nor do we pray that we would be able to live within them, for however long they may last, in the complete awareness that we are held and sheltered by the Lord and can therefore continue within them without suffering any harm.”

– Streams in the Desert, One of my very favorite devotional books