Thursday, October 17, 2013

husbands of sick & pregnant wives are definitely saints

I have two nursing students shadowing me once a week for six weeks to learn some wellness coaching.

They are hilarious, and they come on my hardest morning of the week - Thursday - and they definitely lighten the load. They are two men in their 20s - we will call them Mike & Ike, since that is very close to their actual names. They follow me around like two body guards, helping, doing my job, and making me laugh.

Ike's wife was apparently just like me when she was pregnant with their now two and half year old son - sick, tired, cranky. Luckily, Mike has a good sense of humor and strong stomach, though he has not had to first-hand deal with a pregnant woman who is this sick. Ike told me today that he thinks they could handle another child, no problem. He called having a two and a half year old "the easy part" compared to dealing with his wife's pregnancy. He then stated, in a polite way, that he is terrified of making it through another pregnancy with her.

Friends, I appreciate your love, support, and encouragement. But I will be honest - my husband is an unsung hero in this pregnancy. Though he's not dealt with the sickness, he's dealt with the sick wife. And that is no easy task.

Today, I mentioned to Mike & Ike that this baby measured ahead in his ultrasound a few weeks ago, so there's a tiny hope he may be ready to come early.

Ike replies, "You know, first babies come late a lot. He may be 2 weeks past your original due date."
He then paused, and said, "I can't believe I just said that. What was I thinking? It's like I want to be smacked."

Yes. Husbands of sick, pregnant, wives are definitely a great bunch.

Monday, October 14, 2013

there is no moment

The question I get asked most often right now is, "Are you feeling any better?"

I smile. I put on a brave face. I usually lie.

But the answer is simple - no.

It's true that the overwhelming nausea has passed. But I threw up so hard last week that I burst some blood vessels in my face. I frequently feel like I'm going to pass out. My stomach always feels like I'm suffering from some type of stomach bug. I don't really qualify that as "better". It's just... different.

I realize this isn't everyone's experience, and trust me - I wish every pregnant-woman-to-be out there a less-sick feeling pregnancy than this.

I struggle with how to make it through work. I struggle with how to do anything besides lie on the couch. This doesn't usually lead to good places - it's pretty bleak when your own husband looks bravely at you and says, "No, we can't go out with friends anymore. It's too much for you. You just have to rest."

Friends, it's a little depressing.

There is no moment of feeling good.

But there is this moment - he moves. This baby is alive and well.

He moves. All. the time. This may be a little boy, but he moves like a little Chrissy. We play games. He pushes me, I push back. I eat candy, he swims around. I sit in a position he doesn't like, and it starts a dance party. Robert can feel him any time, he moves so much and responds to me so much.

And when I think about it all - work, being sick, what to eat for dinner (that I won't throw up), how to keep saying no to people, how I will ever manage anything again - I get so overwhelmed. Then he moves, and it makes me smile. Then I am reminded that we are only sustained the true Mover, the one who moved heaven and earth to be connected to us. It doesn't take any of the grossness away, but it gives me strength. Strength to worry less, to keep going, to be faithful where I can be.

Because God is our refuge and strength. A very present help in a time of trouble. If he doesn't move the mountain, if he doesn't move you away from the mountain, I pray he gives you strength to climb it.