This week I truly felt “pregnant.” One minute I felt terrible, the next I was at least able to think about feeling normal. I was at once overjoyed with the changes in our lives and a moment later just as frustrated as I had been happy. Physically I’m really starting to appear pregnant as well. Now people are beginning to be adventurous enough to ask, rather than whisper, questions to one another for fear of offending me should I say “No, I’m not pregnant.”
I’ve just entered what I found to be the most difficult part of the pregnancy the last time around. The end of the third month and right on into the start of the fifth month was particularly hard for me. While I was beginning to believe that all was indeed well, which made me extremely relieved and happy, I was also becoming increasingly frustrated by the fact that I felt just plain “sick” all the time. Nothing, not even time, seemed to make the sensation subside. So, I faced the pregnancy knowing that there was still more time to go than had passed and began to wonder if I’d survive without driving myself and everyone around me crazy!
Here I am again. I try each day to remember that “morning” sickness did last many weeks beyond the norm, it did, in the end disappear. Granted it wasn’t until nearly five months, and yes, that time is still nearly eight weeks away, but it did subside. This is my attitude during my optimistic moments. Then, I’m vividly reminded of the time when I was about four and a half months pregnant with Jacob. It was a particularly hot August, day. I’d gone inside to get a glass of ice water. Rob appeared and merely asked for a sip, but my reply was “No, I don’t want you to catch what I have.” I was so convinced that I was sick I honestly thought he could catch it for a moment. (After dissolving in laughter and assuring me he wouldn’t ever have that problem, he went inside and got his own glass.)