Framed.

Yesterday I went to bed at 11 in the morning and didn't get up until this morning at 3.

Granted, I woke up every few hours or so. But it was a sick day; I threw up several times and had a screaming headache--and kept throwing up the Tylenol. The only thing I could bear was lying still in a dark and quiet room. So I did.

Better today; by the afternoon I was eating normally again. Felt like death warmed over all morning though. It's hard to deal with. I remember how awful I felt those first few months with you--I remember feeling just as dreary and miserable, even though I wasn't nearly as sick then as I am now.

We made our first demonstration of faith in this new baby. We framed the baby-like blob in the ultrasound picture and put it out in the living room. I can look up from where I'm typing and see it. I don't look at it often; it's too scary. Admitting there's a baby in there means admitting I could lose it as easily as I lost you. That there might be something worth mourning if things go wrong. Its opening myself up to hideous agony.

But the picture is sitting right there. Snapshot of my own defiance.

Small rays of hope

So far I haven't thrown up since leaving the hospital. I've kept down a bit of solid food and am no longer feeling about to die. I'm a long way from well but seem to be mending a little. Hoping this trend continues.

Sick

This has become a survival situation.

I don't know how I can possibly be this ill and weak and still be vaguely functional. I'm still going to work, but I'm throwing up almost every hour, if not more often. By the end of my shift I am so weak and shaky I can barely drive home. Once I'm home, I sleep until Daddy gets home from work, simply because I can't do anything else. When he gets home I get up and curl, miserable and shaking, in the corner of the couch--only getting up to barf some more. I'm retching so hard that I'm afraid I'll pass out, and I find myself actually praying for mercy.

My knees and hips hurt from kneeling, my back and shoulders hurt from hunching. My chest hurts from heaving. My stomach hurts constantly, my throat is raw and my voice is starting to fade. Even the underside of my tongue feels strained.

I can't drink more than tiny sips, and I can't hold down any solid food. My life has deteriorated into a game of getting enough liquid and calories into my wretched body that I will neither die nor have to go to the hospital for IV fluids.

I cannot imagine how I can make it another month (or more) as sick as I am. Every time I wake up there are a few blessed moments before the waves of nausea hit me. And then the daily cycle begins. Each day I can't imagine how I'll make it through work. But I do. Each afternoon I wonder how I'll get through the evening. But I do. Each night I am only grateful for the hours I blessedly don't feel the pain, the aching, the constant hot and cold flashes, or the endless rounds of heaving.

I feel like I'm in a war.

So Much for Secrets

I wasn't going to tell very many people, but I'm pregnant again.

Of course our little family knows, and a very small handful of friends. That was all we planned to tell until we knew if this little one is going to stay. I hid it pretty well for the first couple weeks.

But this one won't be hidden away. Aside from a couple of people who have actually looked at me and guessed, the morning sickness struck with such violence that hiding this from my coworkers is flat out of the question. I managed to hold off all day on Thursday at work, only to lose it as soon as I got home. Friday I got hit a couple times, and Saturday I lost count. Today was my first day back at work since it hit like this, and I threw up almost hourly.

Like I said, hiding this is difficult. It does not go unnoticed, me dashing from my register to the ladies room.

When I carried you, I only threw up three times the entire time. Oh you made me plenty sick, and there were times I wished I'd just throw up so I could feel better. But now I know that it doesn't make me feel better anyway. I've barely gotten any food down at all. Lucky for me your Daddy went out and got some Ensure for me.

I don't feel anything with this one (other than that whole throwing up constantly thing). With you I felt dazed and happy; with the last one I felt determinedly optimistic. This time? Dull worry that I'll have to go through this kind of morning-sickness hell again after this.

Daddy's a little more excited than me. He doesn't show it much in the day, but a couple times I've woken in the night to find him awake, petting my belly. In his sleep his hand finds that already-a-little-larger bump almost as soon as he starts snoring.

And I'm putting some real effort into not snarling at him constantly. I'm not proud of it, but I was pretty grumpy the other two times. to put it mildly. This time I'm less pissy in general, and I guess I've learned to control that crazy irrational hormonal rush that used to make me flare up. It also helps that he's being so tender and gentle and loving to me since I've been so sick (Is this the silver lining?)

One of the things I don't feel anything about is that this baby is due almost exactly when you were. You were officially due on November 4, and this one is due November 5. I know there's pools of terror and anxiety deep under all this nausea, but for right now, I'm really glad I can't feel it yet.