So that's from the Orson Scott Card book
Pastwatch, one of the coolest books ever. I keep thinking about that line sort of looking backwards at the last few weeks...months even. Why am I feeling so just...off right now. Sick, tired, lonely, frustrated, grateful, happy, confused, guilty. But really, the cause of everything right now is this.

Yes, that is the Tolman in progress. I am actually 12 weeks now, ending the dreaded first trimester which was more dreaded for me than either of the other ones. When I got that positive pregnancy test I cried. Hard. For a long time. Because I was scared. I didn't even have the happy at first...not for a while. Tom had no idea what I was talking about when I said, "I'm pregnant" and proceeded to sob like a child. He looked so happy. And then I felt worse because I was just scared. I only miscarried a few months before and this happened so fast. And for those of you who know my obstetric history, fast is not my norm. It took me a full year to get pregnant with Emma and Mary. Twelve blasted months. And for those of you who have had to wait longer maybe it doesn't seem like all that bad. But it was bad for me. And this was two months. Two. And I couldn't just accept that it was going to be fine because it wasn't last time. And so I was scared.
I got less scared as the horrible sickness began, and the exhaustion. And that's what I've had ever since. Happiness mixed in with horrible sickness and exhaustion. And part of me is grateful for it because it helps me feel like this is really happening, that things are okay. But now I'm tired of being sick and exhausted. And therein lies my other issues. I had morning sickness with the other two girls, pretty bad, regular puking and stuff. But somehow it was manageable...like I knew how to have periods of feeling better and I could deal. But this time, I'm having the hardest time dealing. I am actually now taking Zofran to try to not feel so craptastic all the time. But it's not even really working that well. And I get so frustrated because I WANT to be able to just be happy and be a good mom and wife even though I'm not feeling so hot. I mean, I did it before. For the love, I taught early morning seminary while I was pregnant with Emma and I never missed a day. And with Mary, I still was able to feel like I was being good to Emma.
Now every time my kids ask me anything I have to haul myself around and I want to smack myself every time I say, "mommy's trying, okay, she has a really sick tummy." And Emma will pat my arm or my back and say, "Mommy, I hope you feel better soon. I'm sorry you don't feel good. " When I pictured her starting kindergarten, it wasn't with me bracing myself against the stroller with Mary in it trying to stay upright at the bus stop to get her off to school. I didn't imagine that I would cook maybe one dinner a week, maybe, and gag every time I open the fridge. I didn't imagine going to bed at 8pm and having to put Mary in bed with me (because of Tom's crazy travel schedule) because I literally couldn't be up any more, I was too sick.
I am so incredibly blessed that I have a fantastically supportive family and good friends. People have come to visit me and have put me up when I've come to visit them. I get phone calls just to check on me and no one tells me to shut it when I am venting about how hard things are. I feel pitiful. I mean, I know it could be so so much worse. I mean, my poor sisters were way sicker for this through their entire pregnancies. I am so incredibly grateful that I am having another pumpkin. I wanted this, I prayed and fasted for it. And now here I am feeling all sorry for myself for feeling sick?!! Again, I deal in guilt currency. What's my problem?! See, venting again. Feel free to ignore this post completely. I might just do that myself.
I suppose this may seem like a silly way to announce a pregnancy. I mean, it sounds like I'm all sad about it when I'm so incredibly not sad about it. I'm sad about the periphery...the things that I know will go away. And yet I feel sort of stuck in this moment. And I can't get out of it!!! Oh, name that little tune my U2 fan friends. Ai yi yi.
I haven't blogged in a while...I feel like everything in my life is connected to this baby and how I feel and since I wasn't ready to share with the world I didn't know how or what to write. So now here I am. And I have a few pretty amazing stories to share...one involving an entire cup of coke on my floor. You know what, I'm going to tell that one because oh my. It's good. And horrible.
It was a few months ago, at the beginning of this. When I was not only nauseous but in incredible stomach pain. Hunger was my enemy and I was hungry. After Emma's ballet practice we stopped at McDonalds to go through the drive through because that was the only way anyone in the house was eating that night (Tom was out of town). So I got happy meals and a chicken nugget meal for me and home we went. As we were driving home I was practically in tears my stomach hurt so bad but the girls really really wanted to have a living room picnic (a we're at home along staple at our house) and I just can't bear to eat a chicken nugget without bbq sauce and it wasn't happening while I was driving so I managed to get us home and our food in the door. I put everything on the table and went to get the ketchup, actually shaking at this point because the pain was getting so bad but I just needed to have them not need me so I could eat my dinner in peace. As I come back in the room I see Mary try to grab her juice box out of the drink tray the held my wonderful cold icy Diet Coke. But that juice box was jammed in there pretty good. Too good. Instead of the juice box coming out, she managed to shake my coke out which hit the dining room chair on its side and the lid came off spraying an entire huge cup of coke all over the hardwood floor, the carpet, the chair, my cabinet. EVERYTHING. Now, I had long passed the end of my rope and so I just started screaming and Mary burst into tears and ran up the stairs. At that point I couldn't even follow her to apologize. I actually ran into the bathroom and locked the door and started crying myself. I came out a minute or two later and Emma just stood there still looking stunned.
I managed to clean the coke off of most everything and pull myself together a little bit. So I went upstairs to apologize to my poor baby. I walked into her room where she was laying on her bottom bunk, sobbing. I stood in the doorway and started to say something but she turned to me, eyes streaming tears and she said "I jutht wanted to get my juith boxth." And then proceeded to break down again at which point I started to cry again and picked her up and apologized about a thousand times for yelling at her. I felt so horrible. She repeated about "jutht wanting her juith boxth" a few more times and I kept saying "I know, I know, it's okay." I got her to come downstairs where I finished setting up the picnic. Then I sat down to freezing cold chicken nuggets with no Diet Coke.
I don't know why I felt like writing that out now...what I mostly need to do is go to bed. But at least I can laugh about it now. It took me a few weeks to be able to laugh about it. It's funny how a little plus sign on a Target brand pee-test can completely throw your world for a loop, and become the cause of everything.