For two weeks now my days go a little something like this….
Get up and race to the bathroom to throw up.
Stumble back to bed where I try to find a position that will be somewhat comfortable and will somehow make the nausea stop , if even, for just a minute.
Race from bed back to the bathroom and throw up.
Take my Zofran and my Reglan.
Back to bed where I try to sleep.
Back to the bathroom to throw up yet again.
You get the general idea, right?
I cannot keep anything down. Not water. Not toast. I’ve already been to the hospital where they put two bags of IV fluids back into me.
I have done this with each pregnancy. It is awful and miserable. I feel like I lose all connection with my sons, my family and my husband during these times.
But none of this compares to what the nurse said to me when I went to the hospital last week.
She said,” You know when you’re this sick it means that your baby is super strong and healthy, right? So this is a good thing! It means everything is okay.”
It took everything in me not to fall apart. I smiled and said,” Yeah. I used to believe that was true.”
And I did….before Ethan passed away I always believed. I believed everything would be okay. I believed and assumed I would hold my new baby. That I would bring him home. That I would see him laugh and coo. That I would watch him crawl and then walk. I never had a reason not to believe in these very simple , yet taken for granted moments.
But now? Now I just pray and hope that this little baby will come home with us. Now, I just walk and ease thru this new pregnancy as if I am walking on a floor of eggshells. Afraid to get too excited. Afraid to pick out a name. Afraid to do anything that will jinx this new baby.
I am, instead, choosing to believe in the small things right now. Like, the fact that I am so sick doesn’t necessarily mean everything is fine with the baby. But it does reassure me that this baby is alive and with me . And that is enough for me right now….at this moment.