Victory Confession - I'm going to be a mother again.
My last post was rather encouraging as my emotional state seemed to have balanced itself out and I was feeling superb. Once off my anti-depressant, settled into our new home in the HOT state of Utah, dearest hubby and I felt that it was time for another little one to join our family. Four weeks after that discussion there was, in fact, a tiny little person starting to grow inside my tummy.
When making this rather big decision to create another life, that I would be in charge of the majority of the day, along with Toddler P, to my surprise there wasn't much hesitation. There wasn't fear or anxiety. No stress. I think mostly the fact that I had comfort from the other side of the veil, made this simple: It was time to have another baby. So, we tried. We were successful.
The first two weeks I knew I was pregnant were wonderful. I wasn't sick, or tired. I could feel small changes in my body here in there, nothing too dramatic. Well, that all changed very quickly.
With Toddler P I was very sick. Throwing up multiple times a day, went to work part-time, slept as often as possible. It was quite awful. When I became sick this time around, the memories of how much I didn't enjoy it came flooding back to me. Constant nausea, throwing up, nothing sounds good, nothing tastes good. Exhausted..sooo exhausted. I was miserable. After suffering for about a week I called the good ol' midwife and pleaded for some help. So, I went and got some fluids and some anti-nausea medication and went back to bed.
The first week on the medicine did pretty much nothing. I was still sick, if anything I was sicker. Then, miraculously it started working and I started feeling less sick all the time. Don't get me wrong, I still felt awful, just not as bad.
My dear dear dear Dad volunteered to come take care of me and Toddler P for about 4 days. Bless his soul. I don't know many Dad's that would be willing to come, alone, to take care of his pregnant and sick daughter and granddaughter. Plus, do all the cooking, cleaning and play with Toddler P all day. He's pretty great. I cried when he left.
The week after that, hubby took off the mornings for the entire week to help me out so I could slowly get ready. I survived yet another week.
I am a few days away from that beloved week 12 and not only am I starting (very slowly) to feel better. But now, my mother is here. For an entire week to take care of us. If this isn't a blessed life, I don't know what is.
I've done my fair share ( and probably a little more) of complaining these past several weeks, but all the while I've been trying to see all the good. And to be grateful.
There are so many woman who can't bear children. If I could give them my very fertile and healthy reproductive parts for 9 months I would. I get to bring life into this world in the most beautiful way. Motherhood is so special. Although it doesn't feel like the "noblest calling" 24/7. We get pooped on and thrown up on, we get kicked and pinched, we get grouchy toddler's that only say "no", we get morning sickness that prevents us from being the best mother we can be. The moments of joy and victories are quick and very short lived. But when we recognize those moments and let them carry us through all the hard. Our ability to be a better mother will only increase.
Am I fearful of suffering with PPD once again this time around? Sure.
But I know what to expect more this time and I know what to do to quick it's trash.
the pregnant unbalanced woman.