The Red Farm House, Dresden, Maine
I feel like I am dying and have been for a week. Every day I think, "I should start feeling better soon," because my mind only naturally knows how to think in terms of NORMAL illness, and then I have the horrible realization that, no, I am going to feel this way for a minimum of six more weeks. My boobs hurt, I feel nauseous all the time, I don't want to eat anything, when I do eat I get bloated, when I don't eat I get bloated, eggs make me want to puke, I am exhausted more than I ever have been in life, and I am at my wits ends as to how I am going to work two part time jobs and write thesis and take my final class. That is a lot to try to do just in normal, real life. Thinking about trying to do all this pregnant has put me into tears twice already in the last five days. And none of this even gets at trying to be there for my husband, family, and friends.
Trey has been a champ. He's taken care of me and run around to do random things for me. I just wish I could stop belching in his face every time I open my mouth. He is for sure enjoying all of this a lot more than I am so far. I think he's already got the pregnancy glows – I just want to curl up into a ball and survive.
When I am able to come above surface, I still don't have any glowy feelings. I worry about how I'm going to have the energy to get everything done and then I worry about my worrying – I don't want this baby to come into the world through a mom who is a stressed wreck. When I don't think about all of those things, my mind starts to wonder about the chances of my baby forming with problems. So many things are going on inside my body – how in the world does it not go wrong? How is it that so many babies do come out normal?
We're at an Airbnb in Maine and, thankfully, it's been a good 36 hours to reset and recharge. I am starting to feel a little better – a little – and it doesn't totally feel like weeds all around me. We pretty much have just sat in bed and read for the majority of our time here and it's been wonderful. That and walk to the water to just sit on a rock in the sunshine and gaze.
Two nights ago, I lay in bed and felt like I was truly at the end of my rope with this new physical reality. Everything felt horrible and I couldn't think of what to do to make it better. And then I remembered – God has always been the God who hears pregnant women. God created this chaos and ordained it – and he has been the intimate friend of Eve, Sarah, Leah and Rachel, Hannah, Mary, and so many others before me. Now, if ever, God is with me. I cried out to him. I didn't get instant relief in my body, but my soul was sweetened. All I can do is accept this reality and accept God's closeness to me in it as I suffer. Perhaps I will not be able to do everything I have on the agenda. Perhaps this is the end of my rope – the end of my plans, projects, and aspirations – but it is not the end of life. It is the beginning of life and that is something God smiles upon and holds me in.
About the Project
This is a very personal project. It tracks my growth and development as I journeyed toward motherhood over the recent years. It doesn't document every experience I had, and probably neglects my more joyful and peaceful moments in the frenzy of trying to communicate my fears, anxieties, and doubts. If you are a friend or loved one, please do not let anything you read here overshadow what you know of me personally. If you are a stranger, please remember that a living and flawed person stands behind these words. To all my guests here, please understand these are not political statements and try to extend me grace, even as I share my failures and foibles - I have repented of much of what I share. I don't share this journal as an exemplar, but rather out of the desire to share my hope that entrance to motherhood does not need to be a fearful thing - despite the very real fears I have fought against. Motherhood is simply a part of life and one through which I am discovering more of myself and my God.