Generally, this is a joyful comment, full of excitement and expectation. For me, it is a struggle...not because I dislike children but because my last pregnancy was so bloody awful. Pregnancy for me wasn't merely a "delicate condition" but actually life threatening at times.
Everyone says that maybe this time will be different. I am trying to believe it, but it's hard. I'm in the first-trimester "morning sickness" period, but the nausea never goes away. Already, I'm getting food in by mere will power, and I am getting scolded about how much I eat. I carefully consider how whatever I eat will "revisit" before it goes in my mouth. I find the prospect of food shopping, something I usually enjoy, to be a nightmare. I've already put my cooking magazines away. I admit cold fear that there are thirty-two weeks before I feel well again.
Perhaps the hardest thing to face is how this will affect my service. I don't want to be sick, and thus I pretend to a fault that I am not. I beg for understanding, both of my pride and my struggle.
I have lost my focus and what I wanted to say...or why. I want to cry, and yet...
And yet I wanted this. The tenderness of Boy's cheek pressed against mine; the joyful laughter and the knowing "Ooooohhhhhh!" when he makes a discovery; the sheer awe I feel as I watch him become his own person.
It is a gift. The price is high, but I am not alone in bearing the cost. I need to remember that...now more than ever before. I am pregnant.
