Having been lucky enough to dodge the morning sickness bullet with my first two pregnancies, I used to think that women who suffered from it were kind of just being whiney. Alas, since the morning of my sixth week I have been feeling like a big ol’ bag of stale barf that’s waiting to spill out onto the carpet and it is even more miserable that those whiney women said it was. Trying to keep a household running and two children alive and tended to, when all I feel like doing is sobbing in a heaving, wretching ball of bile on the couch, is actually kind of horrid. Blech. Maybe this means I’m having a boy. Or twins (bite your tongue!).
Most days I wonder how I will possibly cope with one more crazy kid running around, when my hands already feel so full.
And I have been fighting a lot of fear regarding this pregnancy: fear of miscarriage, fear of having a child with special needs, fear of something going wrong with the delivery. I know there’s no use dwelling on those fears, but in my heart I do feel like three healthy kids is just too much to ask for sometimes, you know? Whatever will be, will be, though, and all I can do is be thankful for the moments we’re in, even if they’re exhausting or (literally) nauseating or scary at times.