So lots going on the in the world right now -- Fidel Castro dead, Ohio State students getting carved up, government in transition -- and I'm just surfacing to say I'm alive, and...
Wait, where have I used that formula about "just surfacing" before? Hm, don't know, could it be one of the five times I've been pregnant while writing this blog? Not all the times I've been pregnant, you understand; only five. There are women out there begging, pleading with God to let them have a baby, just once, and I'm throwing up through my nose for the seventh time. I asked God about this, but he replied in a small still voice I couldn't hear over my own gagging.
So: we don't always get what we want, but we get what we need. Physically, I didn't want or need to be pregnant; already my body is sustaining wear and tear that's going to take further years, if ever, to undo. Mentally? not what I was planning for, to be sure. So it's spiritually that I needed to be pregnant, except you can't just be spiritually pregnant. There has to be a physical component, the component of actually growing the baby in your body. Baby is growing, thriving probably, taking the nutrients he or she needs from me, and I give, will I or no: my time, my energy, my health. Mine, mine, mine, only not mine anymore.
***
There and Back Again: A Guide to Food the Second Time Around
Cottage Cheese: curdy, acidic. Not recommended.
Chicken Stir-Fry: chew well, lest you see chunks.
Popcorn: the worst, especially in your nose.
Waffles: a winner! Nice and soft, non-irritating.
***
I'm going to go to the doctor, eventually. I don't see the rush to go in and hear that I'm pregnant and Advanced Maternal Age, and would I like some extra tests? I haven't even decided whether I want to go with the midwife or with a doctor. There's no hurry. To be honest, I'm leaning toward a doctor and a hospital. I've had six unmedicated births, but I'd kind of like to be put completely under this time, maybe for the next seven months, and just have a baby handed to me at the end.
Let me be clear: I love babies. I love this baby, all 0.7 ounces of it. (A eight-week baby is the size of a peanut M&M, did you know?) But I hate hate being pregnant, and after six times I don't feel like a pro. I feel worn down with being constantly nauseous and tired, and with having a softening, thickening, atrophying body -- and that's not even taking into account the coming day of torture. I'm not even thinking that far ahead.
Yeah, I said all on the blog the last time around, and probably the three times before that, too. The world may be changing, but some things remain constant.
Guardini on, yes, kneeling (and standing)
6 hours ago
6 comments:
I have always said that I don't need an epidural for childbirth, but I would love one for the first trimester.
I always thought, in my naivete, that the psychology of pregnancy would get easier the more I did it. I never, ever expected that I would dread it more now than I ever did the first few times.
I always said I would give birth three times a pregnancy to avoid the first half of pregnancy. Somehow it hasn't worked out that way.
Hang in there!
Great post. Prayer, my friend.
Oh, my dear! I hope it's at least a small comfort that you can still write delightfully in between bouts of bending over the toilet bowl. I don't think I'll ever understand, this side of Heaven, how growing a baby can be such an euphoric and horrible thing, practically right at the same time.
Keep up the good work - the baby and the words. You're talented at both!
- Finicky Cat
This sounds familiar. Hope the nausea ends soon! I will say, although being pregnant was harder with number seven, mothering a newborn was much easier. The whole family loved just sitting around holding the baby. I didn't even mind waking up at night because I knew it was a short time we'd have together, especially when I would look at the 17 year old and think how quickly it all went by -- Just like the little old ladies tell you all the time.
*bright and cheery* I know just how you feel!
...had stomach flu last week, for JUST ONE NIGHT, which hit after the three-hour glucose challenge that I didn't get to start until noon, although I was prepared at 8....
But totally in the same ballpark as weeks of this. Totally!
Seriously, though, you're in my prayers.
Post a Comment