My 3rd pregnancy was... different. To say the least.
I was sicker than ever and the word exhaustion took on a whole new meaning. My feelings toward being pregnant drastically changed.
Before this I actually considered becoming a surrogate I loved being pregnant so much. That was a thought that quickly vanished once my nausea completely took over and I was so sick I could barely move. And, as many of you mommies out there know, is not easy when you have 2 toddlers running around that you need to keep up with. Most days it took every ounce of energy I could muster to just get out of bed. Thank god for my amazing and fabulous husband who got up almost every morning to start off our babies day with a healthy breakfast. I literally had to force myself to eat to maintain any sort of strength and that was not an easy task. Within the year prior to getting pregnant I became a vegetarian and with this pregnancy my food choices decreased even more. Food grew to become my worst enemy and my body was literally running on fumes.
My triumph of the day was getting my daughter to and from school and getting dinner on the table. Thank goodness she only went 3 days/week. I drank more coffee than I thought I should and it didn't help much at all. I knew it was because I wasn't eating much of anything... Cereal, peanut butter n' jelly sandwiches and mac n' cheese became my staples. And on occasion as much as I'm ashamed to admit, I did resort to eating some meat. My body craved it. Ugh, gross. So gross.
Sleep was something that I no longer looked forward to. My baby boy was still up often throughout the night and for the most part would only sleep if he was cuddled up right next to me. Now, the majority of the time I would never mind cuddling with him, but when my belly began to grow and my discomfort levels rose the last thing I needed was an 18-month old toddler who liked to roll and kick in his sleep. And then when he would finally fall asleep, after moving around and climbing all over me for literally hours, he landed right on top of my face. Yep, his head would literally rest on my face and that's where he would try to fall asleep. And this continued pretty much throughout my entire pregnancy. The only changes were I began to move him off me when he was asleep and most of the time he stayed asleep. And if I was feeling extra brave I would let my husband try to carry him back into his own room to put him back into his bed. Ha, that never worked. This was the way we slept, up until the night my baby was born.
I also have to admit that my faith constantly wavered. I found myself questioning a faith that I believed in so strongly. Why would God give me this baby when I truly felt that I couldn't be ready? Why was this happening? I needed answers. I needed reasons. I needed clarification. And I wasn't getting any of it. Well, at least not during my pregnancy.
I know I've pretty much bitched and complained this entire blog entry about how rough my pregnancy was, but at the end of it all I was happy. I knew I had an itty bitty being growing in my belly and that alone was worth every moment of icky-ness I was feeling. And after all those moments of questioning my faith and my abilities to take this on, I did convince myself that everything would work out. How? Ha... who the hell knew. Only time would tell.
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