Saturday, April 1, 2017

What Was I Saying Again?

I was supposed to be talking about our lunch routines and complaining about the crockpot, but the truth is those posts were probably the last time I made or served lunch. We quickly descended into a feral survival mode when an old, familiar malady came to visit me.

Yes, I am once again growing a person.

When I am newly pregnant, I always make absurd promises to myself like I will continue exercising every day even if I don't feel well or make a goal of more frequent posting. You'd think I'd know better by now. The resolve doesn't last long. Soon I take my post on the couch and wait for the awfulness to end.

MrsDarwin valiantly continued posting through her dark days:
If you told me when I had my first that I would do this six more times (seven, counting the miscarriage, but I was never sick then), I would have turned my face to the wall and died.
And that about says it all. This is only my fifth time (Only five. Ha! I think I need a medal.), but the sentiment holds. It is somewhat unbelievable I am living through this again. Pregnancy, especially the first half, is a time of muttering perseverance for me. Everything grinds to a halt. No shopping, no food prep. I cannot concentrate and can barely speak as the inevitable happens over and over again. Our homeschool is a shadow of its former self. The cleaning and laundry are all on emergency basis only. My step counter shows months of woe. The only items on my agenda are sleeping and carefully eating food that someone else prepared and put in front of me.

One of the great wonderings of my life was did I have such hard experiences with pregnancy because of working and commuting and generally pushing myself too hard when I should be resting. The answer is a resounding NO! This time has been exactly as bad as the others. Hurray. I found myself, in the depths of the worst of it, wondering how I went to work through all this? I know I did it. I did it four times, but I'm not sure how anymore. The only significant difference this time was that I felt myself begin coming out of the ditch at about 12.5 weeks rather than the normal 14. This "early" start to the reprieve only led me to fear miscarriage because, obviously, the books that say you should start to feel better around 12 weeks have lied through four previous pregnancies.

I am now 16 weeks and the worst is over. I am not 100%, but I am also not permanently planted on the couch anymore. My goals now are to slowly regain my endurance because, wow, atrophy is a thing, and to find order in the house again because three months is a long time to ignore it all. (My husband will be thrilled when I feel well enough to cook supper. Almost but not yet.)

NB: I thought about posting this yesterday, but I decided against it because it might be confusing.