17 Weeks, Part 2: Lighting, Rock Bottom, and the Upswing

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

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.

16 Weeks: Stripes, Spring, and Some Settled Things

The weather is warming, flowers are blooming, and for the last few weeks it has been mostly glorious outside. Temps in the 70's and lovely little springtime zephyrs breezing around us. The kids have been anxious to play outside on their scooters and bikes, so yesterday morning I hauled my tired pregnant self out into the front yard with them and sat in the shade with my striped-bump and watched them play.

I've been feeling almost totally human in the eating department lately, which--in addition to the sunny springtime weather--has lifted my mood quite a bit. I've switched from eating tons of rice and croissants to oatmeal for breakfast (ironically, I can't eat this when I'm not pregnant because I threw it up so many times during my Gracie-pregnancy!), quesadillas with salsa and sour cream, with a side of apples for lunch, and pretty much whatever everyone else is eating for dinner. Last night I even cooked chicken to make a salad, which I haven't done since 2015. I am happy that my body is now accepting vegetables and fruits as well as carbs, carbs, carbs.

That's not to say I don't still have some queasiness. I'm down to one Zofran a day, for the evening sicky feelings, but I do also chew spearmint gum non-stop all day to keep my stomach settled. Steve says the whole house smells like mint when he gets home! :) And I have to be in bed by 10ish or my stomach revolts. But for the most part, I'm like a million times better on that front.

The babes (who is 5 inches long/avocado-sized) and I have also had a predilection for springtime Oreos at dessert time, and Welch's fruit snacks pretty much any time of day. One great thing about being a grown up is that you don't have to ask permission to eat fruit snacks anymore. And you can eat as many as you want in a day, and even have them right before breakfast.

My belly out grew all my shirts this week, so I sneaked off to the mall find some stretchier shirts when Steve had a free morning. Now I feel pretty well stocked for the second trimester, and I can't tell you the difference that well fitting clothes are making for my self-esteem. I feel pretty for the first time in this pregnancy. :)

And this time around... I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm just not going to feel 100%. All through Juliette's pregnancy I kept waiting for the normal-Jamie energy and healthiness to come back. I pushed myself really hard (I was literally scrambling to finish editing a novel for a client from my bed the night before Jules was born) and all it did was make me more tired, more desperate, more discouraged. Last night I told Steve I just want to be able to be myself again, feel like myself, do the things I normally do. And he very kindly responded, "But you know you won't be able to until the end of this pregnancy, right?"

I guess I knew, but I hadn't really admitted it to myself yet. It's a tough pill to swallow, to say the least.

Many other things are settling into place for us, though. We found out last week that we are going to be assigned to San Antonio for the next four years! We are SO excited, and already hunting through house options and daydreaming. We also finalized our temporary housing situation (so we have somewhere to live between closing day on our NC home and moving out to TX when Steve finishes PGY3 at the end of June). We signed a lease on a nice apartment nearby, and plan to take just the necessities, treat it like a vacation, and spend a LOT of time at the complex's pool with the kiddos. :)

12 Weeks and Kicking.

The closer I get to the end of the first trimester, the more light there seems to be at the end of the tunnel. :) Hitting the 12 week mark last Friday (baby fruit size: "large plum") I noticed that I was feeling less queasy in the mornings (evenings are still not as great) and throwing up MUCH less. YES!!!! Down from 3-4 times per day in the early weeks, to 1-2 in the later weeks, and in weeks 11 and 12 each incident was several days apart.

The intense depression that accompanied being incapable of doing/enjoying most of the normal things my life entailed before pregnancy also began to lift. I'm still not back to normal, but I feel like "normal" (well normal-ish, anyway) is something that might actually be possible again someday.

I've started getting dressed again. Just feeling well enough to get dressed, make the bed, and drive the kiddos to school (without wondering if I'm about to embarrass myself in the drop-off line) is a balm to my soul. Really. Not exaggerating.

And Steve and I have been able to hang out in the evenings, again. For a while I had to go right to bed or I would (you guessed it!) throw up. But now, as long as I eat a big bowl of rice after dinner to settle my stomach, I can usually hang out for two episodes of Person of Interest, and/or until almost ten. And we've been sleeping in the same bed again for a couple of weeks, which--hooray! I missed him. He's my bestie.

It turned out that the beginnings of really feeling better came none too soon, because while I was in agony and despair on the sofa over the last few months, I apparently forgot to pay the utility bill for so long that we got a letter threatening to cut our water off.

I opened the notice just in time to pay it.

I also have about 30 overdue library books, which the library has sent me multiple notices about. I should get a bill for those this week--hopefully I remember to turn the books in before then.

Aaaaaaand I didn't fill out the paperwork (due at the beginning of February) to renew the kids' insurance with the state. So they almost lost coverage altogether. I was lucky to get in touch with the nicest caseworker ever, who told me if I could get her all the paperwork by 2/29, she would be able to save me. And she did. I have some thank you notes to write to lots of people for helping this trimester, starting with her.

Steve had the week off. He'd originally scheduled this time off so I could go visit my BFF Suzi (who I haven't seen in 3 years!) in Arizona. Buuuut then we found out I was pregnant, and we rescheduled because we knew I'd be all-day sick and not much fun as a house guest. :)

So instead he spent the week working on final touches to get the house ready to sell. (We are BAWLING inside about this.) He re-dug and finished out a beautiful french drain in the back yard (a project he has been dreading for literally a year) with the help of some co-residents, Ann and Dennis, who came over to lend a hand. He and I deep cleaned and staged the house on Tuesday morning to prepare it for the photographer.

And then March 1st, it went on the market.

We don't know where we're going yet, and it makes me heartsick every time it hits me that we're leaving this sweet little home. But we didn't even know where Winston was when Steve got accepted to med school here almost 7 years ago, and it has been wonderful. We met kindred spirits. We really became our own family here. And I'm excited to see what Heavenly Father has planned for us next.

...I just a little bit wish I could pick up our house and transplant it wherever we are going. :)

In baby-related news, I've been feeling kicks since week 11! I totally thought I was crazy (I have never felt one earlier than week 14) and didn't tell Steve. But the days passed and it became more and more clear to me that the little tap-tap-tap I feel when I'm sitting on a step, with my knees up by my chest, is our little bun. I feel it pretty regularly now a few times a day, usually bumping against the spot where the seam of my stretchy preggo pants hit. (I bought some stretchy pants because the regular ones hurt my abdomen--and because I wanted to wear something that wasn't leggings!)

Steve and I also got to go to our 12-week ultrasound together. Baby's measurements were good (yay!) and we got a good 10 minutes of baby-watching. It was amazing to see how much it had changed since we had our first scan at almost 9 weeks. It went from a little gummy bear with little stubby arms and legs to a full-fledged little person with long legs kicking around. It wiggled and bounced and moved its arms and legs. Steve was transfixed. :)

Almost-9-week gummy bear:

12 week scan--totally baby looking!

From this angle you can't see how long its little legs and arms are, but I was shocked to see how big they'd grown!

The hemorrhage was about the same size, but according to the tech (and my ultrasound-knowledgeable hubs) it looks like its starting to clot. (Which is good, because clotting is part of healing.)

We rounded out the visit with a blood draw, at which point I was very thankful for good phlebotamists. I know I've done this pregnancy thing 3 times before, but I'm still not the biggest fan of getting my blood drawn, and feel very wussy about it in my head. Though I think I hold myself together well enough, minus a little bit of overly enthusiastic conversation which I use to distract myself from the NEEDLE. :p

Stats (as of ultrasound):
Weeks pregnant: 12 weeks, 6 days
Baby's fruit size: Large plum
Net weight gain: ? (Didn't check)
Doctor visits: 2
Cups peed in: 2
Blood draws: 2
Ultrasounds: 4

(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. :)

Hanging In

I think at this point it is pretty safe to say this is the worst "morning" sickness I have ever had. Even on two medications, I still throw up on average 1-2 times a day. I feel sick unless I am sleeping. And Jules and I are spending lots and lots of time hanging out like this on the couch.

When I come downstairs in the morning she greets me with, "Hi Mom! You want to yay down?" :)

In the morning I wake up and pop a Zofran in my mouth before I get out of bed. If Steve's home, he takes Gracie to school and I sleep until 9ish. If he's not, I set my alarm for 7:15, and then a second for 7:30. I give myself a few minutes to gear myself up for another day, and by 7:45 I'm up. Gracie is a rockstar, and has gotten the crew of littles going with breakfast and gotten her own morning routine almost handled by the time I get downstairs. (I do have that first alarm set so that I can hop up and wake everyone on the off chance that they aren't already up and about.)

I eat something (lately my life has been brunch: croissants and cantaloupe, sometimes 2-3 times a day, because they taste good, are gentle, and don't hurt coming up) and then drive Gracie to school. I'd say about 50% of the time I am actively fighting not to throw up in the car. Driving is the worst.

Then back home. If Charlie has preschool I gear up for another round of driving. If not, I collapse to the couch and the kiddos play.

Sometimes I mix it up and lay on the blue sofa in the living room instead of the sectional in the family room. It is luxurious to have two couches, and I appreciate the change of light and scenery.

Once the kids have had lunch, I take a nap during quiet time. If Steve is home, he handles lunch and school pickup, so I get an extra good nap. Yesterday (Sunday) I slept until 5pm. If Steve's working, I sleep on the couch (so I'm not too comfortable) and set lots of alarms so I won't sleep through picking up Gracie. I also wake up at least once in a panic, having dreamed that I left her at school.

My nap feels like a reward for being awake and nauseous all morning. :)

Throwing up just happens when it happens. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes afternoon, sometimes night. Usually not all three now that I've added Zofran to my daily pharmaceutical intake.

I miss eating. I miss sleeping normally. Steve came and slept in our bed last night, and it was so nice to feel him there with me when I woke up in the night.

But since we had our horrible scare last Thursday, I am thankful just to still be pregnant. Even though I feel overcome. I am thankful for the little gummy-bear baby still safely in my tummy. And being terribly sick means I'm still preggers with that little one, and that is a good thing.

Naptime in T-minus 35 minutes. :)

8 Weeks, and the first Dr. Visit.

Week eight (raspberry week) has been the hardest yet. LOTS of nausea. Worse than I remember with any of my babes before. Lots of throwing up. Lots of sleeping.

It's hard to write about this stuff, because I don't want to think about it (and I don't really like to remember it later). But it is part of the story of this pregnancy, which is going to bring someone very sweet into our home. So here I am writing.

While it has been really physically and emotionally challenging to be so sick, I am thankful for all the "training" I've been doing in preparation for this time. Because of the counseling, careful introspection, and learning that I've done over the past year and a half, I am more okay with being humble in my circumstances than I have ever been. I have graciously declined requests to contribute outside our home, because I honestly can't do it without suffering serious (and also icky) consequences. I have guiltlessly decided that it is absolutely fine for me to wear comfortable clothing (read: JAMMIES) all day long. I have gratefully surrendered a lot (almost every single bit) of my usual work around the house to Steve and the kids.

This kind of humility is a HUGE challenge for me. I place a lot of value on my efficiency, productivity, and a ability to keep our home running smoothly. I take a lot of pride in providing an environment that allows my family to feel relaxed, loved, and cared for. Right now, I can only provide a tiny part of what I usually can, and it has been a daily challenge for me to face that head on. That I can't.

But I am also thankful. Thankful for a family who loves me and looks after me, for a husband who is willing to go above and beyond his usual work to keep our home, marriage, and kids doing great. Thankful for the opportunity my family has provided through their work for me to take care of myself, rest, take (long) daily naps. Thankful for kids who are happy to play together, or lay on the floor with me and play card games. Thankful for the (forced) chance to slow down, look around, and really value the sweet life we've made together.

And thankful for a new little baby growing bigger everyday.

I've been so sick... It has been hard to keep perspective. I changed all my lock screens to this picture of Jules and Steve, so have this constant reminder: this is what its for. To bring a new sweet little baby into this world. And it is going to feel worth it at the finish line.

Yesterday was my first official doctor visit (and cup-pee) of this pregnancy. I also spent a good amount of time chatting with the admissions nurse (who gave me the go-ahead to get on some Zofran, which has made ALL THE DIFFERENCE today!!!) about my health history and what to expect. We talked about the fact that I will be moving partway through this pregnancy. That makes my heart clench. I have loved delivering with this practice at Forsyth hospital, and it will be hard to change all that up at the third trimester. And then I got my blood drawn by an excellent phlebotomist and headed home.

Stats (as of dr. appt):

Weeks pregnant: 8 weeks, 6 days
Baby's fruit size: Raspberry
Net weight gain: -3lbs

Doctor visits: 1

Cups peed in: 1
Blood draws: 1

7 Weeks.

It's 7:18 pm, and I'm just hanging out on the couch biding my time until it feels not-too-lame to go to bed. I'm shooting for 8, but we'll see if I make it until then.

We made it to 7 weeks on Friday, and this teeny tiny babe in my belly is officially the size of a blueberry. It still blows my mind when I get those little updates from a pregnancy app that say things like, "Baby is 10,000 times the size it was at conception." That is a LOT of growing happening, little one.

I am still sick. Very. I'm pretty sure Sea Bands are not effective at all, but I wear them all the time (even to sleep) superstitiously. Because I don't want to not wear them and then throw up. Just in case. You know. They are like weirdly sporty-looking security blankets that make an odd circular imprint on my supposed anti-nausea acupressure point.

I washed my hair today. (Bragging.) It feels really good. It has been a long time (let us not count the days!) since I washed all of it. I know I washed the top half last week. It's long and there's lots of it, so it takes effort to wash and dry, and I only have so many good minutes per hour. I used up all my morning ones taking a long shower, washing my hair, and drying it. Then I threw a load of laundry in the washer, and I had to lay down for like an hour, and then I fell asleep on the couch, and then I went up to take a "real" nap in bed and slept for nearly 4 hours, without moving from the spot I fell asleep in.

I'm taking it really easy on myself. It is a relief. I feel like all the give-yourself-grace-Jamie! work I've done over the past few years is getting a real workout now. I'm not pushing to hard. I push just enough to feel it, and then I let myself be where I need to be. My sweet little body feels really separate from me right now. It is tired and sick, and it feels much older and more weary than my spirit does inside of it. But I know it is doing its best, and I am trying to honor that by letting it rest. We have a long and weary road ahead of us, and I hope that gentleness will help me endure better and more happily.

On Friday or Saturday night (I don't know which; they all run together) I had the clash of the pregnancy symptoms. I won't elaborate in detail, but there was much throwing up and other unpleasantness and I laid on the carpeted closet floor in our bathroom. It was terrible, but I have decided that though throwing up is awful and I hate it, it's okay if I have to do it. It's not the end of the world. Somehow that makes the nausea a little easier to handle. I don't have to fight my body; I can let it do what it needs to do.

I've been grasping for support and meaning and purpose from my Heavenly Father. It is so difficult for me to go through something that seems so useless. Being nauseated doesn't help my baby or my body to be healthier. It feels very pointless. I feel very useless sometimes, and disheartened, and looking in to the long long days and nights that will come before it relents is a weight on my heart. I try not to look at it, because it doesn't help, but big things like that--you catch it out of the corner of your eye sometimes, even when you're trying not to. And it sticks for a while before I remember to go back to day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.

I watched this talk from General Conference the other night, and cried, and felt a little lift. I can bear this ickyness and sadness if it is "the work God gave me to do." I don't know why He chose this kind of work, when I am so good at the kind that is productive and visible and measurable, but He has, and I am trying to keep that perspective. There are things for me to learn in this, I know. I just wish it was a little more pleasant. ;)

Tonight Steve is out with friends at a concert in town. Guster. He has been so tired. The other night while the kids were getting ready for bed, he fell asleep slumped over on the ottoman and snoozed and snored there for a good twenty or thirty minutes.

Poor love.

He has been good as his word (better) and has taken over meal planning, cooking, shopping, dishes, and lots of parenting, and he has taken good care of my heart, too. I hope I am taking care of his. That is the hardest part of this for me--harder than being still and feeling sick and never knowing what will stay in my tummy. I just hope I'm doing okay for him. I hope he still feels loved.

I miss him tonight. Part of me is very sad not to be with him and not to be able to be his date and feel like his sweetheart. But all of me is glad for him to have a break and to play and to be happy and light and not in charge of our whole little world for a bit. That can make a person tired, and I hope this will be nice for his sweet heart to get a little recharge.

Keep growing, little baby. <3

6 Weeks.

Baby turned six weeks on Friday, and the morning sickness got real.

I woke up from a deep sleep in the middle of the night and jumped out of bed because I had to throw up. I hate throwing up. But it's funny the sort of casual resignedness I took it with. Felt that telltale feeling. Got out of bed and grabbed a hair-tie from my bedside table, wrangling my hair into a ponytail as I walked to the bathroom. Quietly got rid of whatever it was that my stomach didn't agree with. (Really actually quietly. I left the bathroom door open but didn't wake Steve.)

Sometimes I need moral support, but it was just a quick awful moment and then it passed. I rinsed my mouth out and got back in bed.

Honestly it's not even the throwing up that gets to me. It's the constancy. The feeling, always, of being about-to-lose-all-my-food. I look forward to sleeping just so I don't have to think about/feel it. Unconsciousness is a very healing gift, and I am thankful for afternoon naps and a self-imposed earlier bedtime.

Unisom seems to be helping. SeaBands seem to be helping (maybe). Eating almost constantly makes a difference. (I am very tired of eating.)

Looking at Juliette and reminding myself what this is all for--another sweet little human added to our gaggle of giggly wonderful Walton babies--is helping. I believe it is going to feel worth it when I hold that new babe in my arms.

The kids have been amazing helpers. They don't know why they're helping yet, just that Mom is feeling sick and laying on the couch a lot. The big kids recently learned to clean the bathrooms, and they clean either their bathroom or the downstairs powder room every day. Gracie has been making lunches for the kids. Charlie puts Juliette to bed at nap time so I can stay downstairs on the couch. They pitch in like troopers and I am so thankful for their good attitudes and capable hands. It is making this much easier.

Steve has been wonderful, too. He always is. He's made me foods I crave, jumped in to take over kid lunches, kitchen duty, meal planning, and chores as needed. He hugs and cuddles me. We talk about the baby, and he supports my escapist needs by planning homes to build or cruises to take or whatever fun daydream is happily distracting me.

And for the first time, I am at a place where I recognize I can do some things, but not all the things I am used to doing. Before the pregnancy, I had a massive list of things I worked through each day, as well as daily tasks. Today I typed up a new list--just the things that will really matter to my well-being and our family's. Enough things to get me up off the couch and doing things, but not so many that I'll feel overwhelmed and useless and start crying. I think it helps to have some small expectations of myself to keep me moving, and to release all the other stuff so that I can focus on keeping my body and attitude in the best places.

I'm not really craving anything in particular, but baby does seem to be pleased with cheese. Annie's macaroni, Laughing Cow spreadable cheese on carrots or Wheat Thins, and grilled cheese sandwiches have all fallen into the "edible" category lately. I can eat some vegetables, which is happy! And some fruits. Mostly carrots and apples. I'll take it. As in my other pregnancies, anything made of wheat (bread, cereal, etc.) other than Wheat Thins is disgusting. Peanut butter (usually one of my favorite foods) is revolting. Like, I can't even stand the smell of it. At all. :) Also, strangely, pizza. I took one bite and knew it was a mistake.

I'm falling into a new routine. And I'm still and quiet a lot more, so I'm talking with the kids and taking time to just watch them play. It's always good when my body has to slow down, because it helps me remember to focus more on stillness and attentiveness and less on getting all the things done.

I am discouraged, but time ticks on, and this too shall pass. Here's to getting through.

It's starting.

Saturday night after dinner, I felt wrong. Just off. And I knew:

The nausea was starting.

I've been taking a preemptive anti-nausea cocktail of B6 and Unisom every night since two days after I found out I was pregnant (on the recommendation of my doctor, don't fret!) and I admit that in the back of my mind I secretly hoped that maybe this time I wouldn't get knocked down so hard with morning sickness... Or... at all?

Saturday wasn't bad. It just wasn't right. Things (like the ground beef I'd just cooked and so desperately wanted in our spaghetti sauce) were irrationally disgusting me. Aversions. And I had that wrong taste in my mouth. And I just felt kind of... icky.

I told Steve after the kids went to bed that I could feel the warning signs. My days of morning-sickness free dining were numbered. Bless his heart, he told me to get to the grocery store immediately, and buy whatever I wanted.

I walked through and picked out anything that looked delicious and/or potentially edible in the forthcoming nausea days.

The spoils included:

Dole Orange Mango juice
White Cheddar Cheez-Its
Wheat Thins
Laughing Cow spreadable cheese
Medium cheddar
Strawberry Toaster Strudels (with 30% more icing?!)
Various soups
3 pints of Ben & Jerry's (2 for me, 1 for Steve): Chocolate Fudge Brownie and The Tonight Dough

By the next morning, things were starting to taste wrong. My Dole juice was sad (but Steve happily took over, and drank it so quickly that he got a minor allergic reaction to the mango, which usually only happens when he eats the actual fruit).

And its gotten slowly worse over the course of this week. First it was just in waves, but today it has been pretty much all day long.

After we dropped Charlie off at preschool, Juliette and I made pilgrimages to CVS and Trader Joe's, where I picked up Sea Bands (CVS) and copious amounts of ginger flavored things (ginger, crystallized ginger, ginger mints, and triple ginger snaps) as well as things my crazy pregnant body thinks I want to eat: two types of meatballs, some chicken sausage, and a package of frozen corn dogs. I comfort myself that these are all about as healthy as they can be, since they at least came from Trader Joe's.

So I'm officially morning sick. It's sad and I'm not a fan, but I'm trying to keep my eye on the big picture: this is an infinitesimally small effort on my part when I consider that the end product of an uncomfortable pregnancy is a brand new beautiful human life. A brand new Walton baby to love.

Do Sea Bands actually work?

Does ginger truly have anti-emetic properties?

Will I need to add Zofran to my already pill-heavy evening medicating routine?

And will I ever get the Sourdough Jack burger that I have been irrationally but powerfully craving for the past three days?!?! (The nearest Jack in the box is 1 hour away! Woe!)

The answers to these questions (and more!) that you didn't ask will be revealed in the coming weeks!