It’s HAPPY TIME for me and my pregnancy. The worst is over and leg cramps, swollen ankles, and 30 extra pounds will never be complained about from this girl. I’m glad to say that I finally have my personality back, I’m happy and optimistic again, and Jimmy and I can’t get enough of our little buddy moving at all hours of the night.
I wanted to bring you into an intimate part of the first 4 months of my pregnancy and the tender moments that still bring tears to my eyes.
Dad: Before work every morning he’d make me a pot of oatmeal, with extra brown sugar and leave it on the stove. I can’t count the times he came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and just held me as I sobbed. One particularly difficult night, I was too weak to feed myself. The image will be stuck with me forever of my dad feeding me oatmeal, bite by bite, and spooning peppermint tea into my mouth after blowing on it because it was hot. He said, “Oh man I remember doing this with your mom.” Another sweet image.
Zachary: Before seminary Z would leave juice or chopped up fruit on my “spot” on the couch so that I could eat something quickly right when I woke up. He also spent many nights tickling my back so that I would fall asleep before I threw up, even though he had seminary at 6am. And if I ever had a craving, Z would leave school and go get it for me. What 17 year old boy does this?
Tyler: T didn’t really know how to help, but was my sweetie. He’d just sit next to me on the couch and put my legs on his lap and rub them (even though they were unshaved). Or he’d play Uno with me. And he’d watch girly shows like “Say Yes to the Dress, Toddlers and Tiaras, What Not to Wear, Bridezillas, Bachelor, etc.” 15 year-old stud.
Mom: Where to begin? How about feeding me every 10 minutes and planning her whole schedule around my eating/ vomiting/ sleeping routine. Comforting me every time I had a breakdown. Convincing me it was worth it. Teaching me how to manage it and hold back vomits. Emptying hundreds of vomit bowls. Keeping me mentally sane. Listening to me vent. This list goes on forever. She earned her ticket to the celestial kingdom (as if she didn’t already have one)…
Jimmy: A husband suffers when he realizes he can’t “fix” a problem. Here’s to my husband who lived apart from me for 3 months, who held my hair throughout the night every time I threw up and would tickle my back to get me to fall asleep quickly; who brought me breakfast in bed for 2 months after I’d throw up in the morning; who’d put Listerine in his nostrils because I couldn’t stand nose-breath smell, who’d go on dates with me in a wheelchair, and who created this little boy who we can’t wait to meet.
Every night I’d pray for angels to bear me up—and looking back I realize I was surrounded by them the whole time. How do you thank someone for all this? No…seriously?
There were many more of you who brought me treats, texted, visited, flew on an airplane with me, wrote to me, cleaned for me, walked Roxy, fed Jimmy…and I’ve prayed for you by name. I’m your advocate forever!
Cheers to a great final tri-mester!
