17 Weeks: Down

It is 6pm, and I've put myself to bed.

Steve is working. My babies are downstairs cheerfully eating cereal for dinner (again). I didn't even pour it for them, just asked my Gracie girl to do it.

As I was going upstairs I told her, "I really wish I could do more for you guys right now."

And she said, "It's okay, Mom. I've already been through this twice with Charlie and Juliette. It's like a life cycle for me." :) (She's been learning about life cycles in school.)

They've been promised a few episodes of Clone Wars in Charlie's bedroom in lieu of family movie night, and they are pumped about it. I'm thankful that they are so flexible, and for the joy they take in little treats, and for the fact that nobody whined that they were eating Cheerios for the second time today. And for the fact that I'm in bed.

But the truth is, I am a wreck. It's always hard to know how much to write here, partly because its public domain, but mostly because this is a record my baby will have of his/her life in utero. At the end of each pregnancy I've compiled all our blog posts into books for each of the kids, and this one will go that way, too.

But I guess sharing the hard stuff will show this baby how loved it is. How wanted. Because I was well aware, no hazy pre-pregnancy memory loss or rosy ideas about what this would be like. I knew it was going to be terrible. In fact, I spent months discussing with Steve, praying, and talking to my depression counselor about this decision before we even attempted to get pregnant. I spent months agonizing and dreading going through this again. Not because of the baby--I LOVE my babies. Even their newborn phases. I adore these little people.

But pregnancy, for me, is like an endless forty weeks of physical and emotional battles. It's like I'm running one of Steve's Tough Mudder races, for, like, ever. Only for me, its not fun. It's hard and gross and painful and I'm exhausted, and there's always more. More to do, more to wade through, more obstacles I can't overcome. Everything I know and value about myself is shut down, lost, or dampened.

And I'm not sure if its really the worst its ever been this time around. Its hard to compare from year apart, even with written records of what it was like each pregnancy before. But it feels the worst.

The nausea I thought was letting up last week has body-slammed its way back into my life this week. Last night I brushed my teeth and accidentally caught a spot a little too far back on my tongue. I lost all the food I'd eaten in the past 6 hours and went to bed feeling defeated, exhausted, and hungry (but afraid to put anything else in my body).

I'm exhausted, and my heart feels broken. I pray but I don't feel comfort. Maybe I'm asking Heavenly Father the wrong questions? If that's it, its only because I haven't found the right ones yet.