(Not Quite So) Down with the Sickness

For the last three days I have been feeling... better. Not 100%, but not afraid that I'll lose every single thing that I eat, either. In fact, in the mornings, I feel pretty okayish.

I can sit up on the couch instead of laying curled in fetal position wishing I was unconscious in my bed.

I can smile at Steve and not have to fake it through feeling like total garbage.

I can brush my teeth with actual toothpaste, without gagging. (Not to brag, but I can even sneeze without gagging sometimes, now!)

I can read a book to my kiddos, make my bed, and sometimes cook a (very simple) dinner when Steve is working an evening shift.

I think until now I wondered a little if I was being dramatic or lazy, spending my days prostrate on the sofa waiting for the next chance to crawl into my bed and sleep. There are enough well-meaning people who tell you to just suck on some ginger and that will make it better. But I was on two medications and still unable to eat enough andd keep enough in me to maintain my body weight.

Now that I've been feeling more human for a few days, I know I wasn't being either lazy or dramatic. It was really that bad. I was really that sick. I almost can't even think about it, because it had me in such a desperate, hopeless place. I couldn't take care of my family. I couldn't even take care of myself.

I couldn't drink water because it made me sick. Driving the kids to school was torture--feeling totally ill and wondering if I was finally going to have to hurl into the emergency ziploc bag I kept in the van console, in front of everyone at Charlie's preschool drop-off line.

I told another mama this week that I had been feeling so ill I hadn't been to Target in 6 weeks. The look on her face. She got it. #momlife

My whole life--even down to what I could and couldn't keep in my body--was out of my control. It was terrible. Depressing. Humbling.

Add to that the frightening bleeding from the subchorionic hemorrhage they found in my uterus--some days so heavy that I was convinced I was going to lose this sweet little baby--and I felt beaten down into the dust. My heart ached. I was hungry. I was sick. And I was worried about our tiny little one. And there was nothing I could do about any of it.

Today I am so grateful for the feelings of closer-to-wellness in my body. For the small things I can do to help around the house. For the foods I can eat. That I can drink a glass of water. (Oh how I missed water!) That I can sit with Jules snuggled against me. That it feels good again for Steve to stroke my hair. That the nausea has receded enough that I notice other, less poignant discomforts--like that I need to stretch my arms or back. Things I hadn't had the energy or presence of mind to contemplate over the last several weeks. After feeling maybe 20% for so long, an 85% feels like a miracle. :)