Tuesday, February 25, 2014

crossing the finish line

The minute he was out, I felt better.

Like a switch had been flipped when they laid his wet, goopy baby self on my chest after birth. 

When they said, "7lbs, 13oz", I smiled, because I knew that I had earned every one of those numbers.

It was a crazy moment, crossing that finish line. It had been my focal point for 40 weeks. Going in, I wasn't even sure how I was going to feel when the race ended. I had no idea what to expect. Relief? Joy? Hunger? Exhaustion? It seemed like a combination of all these things when it was over. 


When they set Joseph on my chest, I knew that race had ended. I had run that race for miles and miles against all sorts of discomfort and disbelief that I could make it one more step. But each step had a purpose and value.

So the best way I can describe it is this - though the race was longer and harder than I could have ever imagined, when I crossed that finish line, my legs were not tired at all. 

Welcome, sweet baby Joe. 
hyperemesis gravidarum: 0
Chrissy: 1

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

about that finish line

i can still see it. i lost sight of it briefly yesterday, when i felt really sick and the ob told me he wants me to stay pregnant and i just cannot get over the fact that i'm still doing this.

as with reminding me that i'm not going to die, robert kindly reminded me that pregnancy will not last forever. he assured me that i will not be pregnant for the rest of my life, that one day i will not sleep with a bucket next to the bed.

i went back to thinking about the harder parts of the race. then i remembered what the doctor told me - the baby is measuring is the 68th percentile. that's really, really good. you don't want a baby too small - trust the pediatrician's daughter on that one.

that's fueling my sprint towards the finish line. i started feeling like death around week 5 of pregnancy, so that puts us at 35 weeks of feeling like i'm going to throw up, nausea, and actually throwing up. and that baby? he's measuring in the 68th percentile. i consider that a miracle, that somehow, through popsicles and zofran and sheer, determined will, my baby is measuring slightly ahead of the growth curve.

it's not everyday we get to be part of a miracle, you know?

i hope you find your miracle today, too. and that it puts that finish line back in your sight.