Yesterday I was 6 weeks. I had to wake up and take a Zofran.
This morning it was worse. I’ll have to start taking them morning and night now. I get terrible headaches along with nightmares from being sick if I don’t. Then I can’t sleep, I wake up and almost can’t make it to the bathroom (4 feet away).
I mean – I knew it probably would happen again. This isn’t the kind of morning sickness where I throw up and feel better, it’s that stupid boat on choppy waves feeling that lasts all day.
And THE SMELLS. Don’t get me started on smells.
Zofran does help. Tremendously, and I am so thankful for that because I know women that have absolutely nothing work for them. I can’t imagine. I had 11 weeks of grinding it out while being pregnant with Bella before a kind nurse gave me Zofran to try, and I can’t fathom feeling that way an entire pregnancy with no relief of any kind.
One of the hardest parts is that no one really understands. Being over dramatic in life anyway, this seems to be just another deal that I’ve blown out of proportion. You know – if I could just buck up and realize most pregnant women get sick and all. This is frustrating but having it for the third time now, I’ve learned that as long as Sam understands and helps a little, the understanding of anyone else doesn’t really matter. I’ve lost friends over this, people who can’t seem to understand why I just can’t go on playdates or meet for coffee or have them over. Because most of the time the first few months? I’m busy trying not to fall into depression and care for my daughter while feeling like death would be welcome.
Sam leaves in 3 weeks for 6 weeks to Georgia. My sitter that helps so much also leaves to move home at the same time. I’m looking for another while contemplating hiring a housekeeper for those weeks because any kind of smell makes me vomit.
I wish this wasn’t my experience with pregnancy, but it is. And as upset as I sound, it’s mostly just me venting to remind myself these feelings I have about it are valid, to connect with other women who get it and encourage me. Having a therapist who also had hyperemesis is really amazing, she gets it in ways almost no one else does. She’s willing to go the extra mile to help me during this time.
I remind myself there are worse things (for me) than moderate hyperemesis. Like being so sick and then losing my babies. That? That was worse. So even if I’m sick, if I’m also still pregnant it’s a blessing. And while I could be angry at God for having to do this again after going through so much, I’m honestly not. In fact, as I laid on the couch this morning and cried a little in disappointment, I imagined that Jesus was probably sad for me too. No one gets out of life without any raw deals, and this is just one of mine. I’m ok with it, I’ll make peace with this condition this time.
I know that I have one of the toughest challenges I may ever face, barring losing the boys, coming up. 6 weeks of being alone, working full time, and trying to keep up with a daughter, house, dog, bills, and life – all while being incredibly sick. But I’m determined to dig deep and trust God for His strength in all of this.