So at 17 weeks and one day, I hit rock bottom.
I'd been feeling a bit better for the previous few weeks, and even started slowly weaning myself off my generic-Zofran nausea medication, and then all of a sudden, I was SICK again. Like, so sick that after I wrote that post where I put myself to bed at 6 pm, I ended up not making it to the bathroom when a wave of nausea hit, and I threw up IN MY HAND.
It turned out to be a case of lightning striking twice. More specifically? I got the stomach flu on the downswing of months of morning sickness, and I didn't identify it. AGAIN. Just like in my Juliette pregnancy.
So far I've thought of no other natural phase of life in which I could have a massively awful stomach flu and not even know it. Pregnancy. Am I glowing yet?
That night, I felt prompted to post on Facebook requesting prayers. Because this is not something I would regularly do, it felt a little awkward, but the feeling persisted so I did it. The outpouring of love I felt afterward was sweet and humbling and it cracked my heart open so that all the feelings of worry, despair and uselessness that I'd locked up inside it came pouring out of me. I sat on the bathroom floor and cried hard, long, desperate sobs. I prayed for help, begged for help, demanded help, and when I finally--after months of looking--felt my Heavenly Father answer with comfort, I couldn't stop begging Him not to leave me.
The first months of this pregnancy have been one of the hardest, darkest, and loneliest times of my life. In addition to the life-changing sickness that hits me (and I feel almost positive that this pregnancy has been the very very worst in that respect), I felt like I lost a thousand things about myself that I loved, and was left with only the very basic core things: My faith, which I will admit, felt worn thinner than I'd like it to be. My love for my family and dear ones. And the capacity (however forced) to wait until things got better.
There were days when I was bleeding so much we were convinced we had lost the baby. Weeks when consistent (though less) bleeding made it hard for us to connect with and feel attached to the idea of a real new baby coming to our family in September. There are weeks I can't really (and don't really want to) remember: a blur of sleeping, throwing up, and trying to be human enough to interact with my 3 other "babies." Weeks when I couldn't bear to eat, read, write, draw, talk on the phone or leave the house (edit: leave the couch).
And the hardest part sometimes was knowing that I'd chosen it. I was fully aware of how hard it could be, how low I could get. But I felt like I was meant to carry this baby, like our family needed it, and so even though I dreaded the idea of being pregnant again, going through this challenge that is so hard I feel like it diminishes the light in my soul--I chose it.
I guess its good to hit rock bottom sometimes. I mean, I hate it. But sometimes awful stuff is a much swifter and more powerful teacher than slow-and-steady good stuff. And after I broke down and cried in the dark in the bathroom that night, and prayed really sincerely hard, I finally felt my answers start trickling in--the same answer from lots of different voices, all speaking the words God needed me to get into my head and my heart. Here is an excerpt from a message I got almost immediately from a friend I look up to, love, and admire very much:
I want to encourage you to allow yourself to be loved on, and served. Because you have a servants heart Jamie, you forget that there is service because God's people have needs. Remember that need isn't weakness, but an opportunity to witness the work of Gods people first hand.
Please let me ease your burden, and lift your heart. I love to serve, and you would be doing me a favor.
She was so right.
I'd been so focused on my loss of ability to serve as I usually do, that I forgot that it can be a gift and an honor to serve others. And that by refusing to ask for help (which my family and I both needed so greatly!) I was not only perpetuating my own difficulty, I was also denying people who love my the chance to give service. Which I LOVE doing. Why would I refuse to let people do something I love doing???
Ego is part of it. It's hard for me to need. I'm used to fulfilling needs. It's something I deeply love and value, a gift my Heavenly Father has given me that gives me a huge sense of purpose and value. So it's hard for me to not only be unable to give, but also to ask others to give. To me. What will people think, right?
But it's become clear to me that that is my task for now. My big challenge. I have to ask for, and accept help.
Several friends reached out immediately, and I gratefully accepted their offer to feed my little family (that's been the hardest thing lately since I feel pretty okay until around five, when I get sort of queasy again). How tender and loving everyone has been!
I should have asked a long time ago, but honestly--I thought I was. I thought I was asking enough, having someone babysit while I went to an appointment, or occasionally drive a kid to school when I was having a rough morning. But now I can see that I should have asked for more help, and sooner. God wasn't restricting the blessings and help I could be offered--I was doing that by refusing to ask, convincing myself that I couldn't ask for more than the limit I'd given myself.
I'm still learning. Thanks for your prayers; I've felt them keenly and they've buoyed me up more than I can tell you.
xo,
Jamie
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