My pregnancy with MG was very routine, and for that I am grateful.
I battled nausea, vomiting, food aversions/cravings the first trimester. And I learned that something the size of a blueberry can make an indelible impact on your life. Up until the pregnancy (and especially the 6 months prior), I had eaten very healthfully, completely sworn off gluten, had little need for medicine, and maintained a strong pride in my active lifestyle. Then along came the beautiful pink lines and all of a sudden I was unrecognizable. Thank goodness for the meds that kept me from vomiting hour after hour. Thank goodness for the hot dogs that I allowed myself when literally nothing else sounded palatable. Thank goodness for the Saltines (filled with gluten) that sometimes substituted as dinner. Thank goodness that God began humbling me through a tiny, unknown creature.
The second trimester was blissful. Gone were the sleepless nights and the odd food relationship. I gained back my lost first trimester pounds with joy + more. We found out we were having a girl. That’s when the fun truly began.
Because that little tiny creature began to take shape as a real human being. A girl. Our daughter.
Oh what a novel thought.
Day and night I was consumed with thoughts about her. Her flutters in my belly brought flutters to my heart. I dreamt about her, talked about her, prayed for her, shopped for her, could not wait to meet her.
I woke up every morning with a smile on my face and a round belly to keep me company. I quizzed friends over must-haves, reveled in baby shower bliss, and took pictures and notes to document every bit of this incredible journey.
N would be up and out of the house before my feet hit the floor every morning and I would come downstairs to find my daily “to-do” list in my planner had some added items. Laundry, Gro store, clean carpets, CONTRACT. He was as ready as I was to meet MG.
There is, however, nothing like getting the stomach flu at 39 weeks to take your mind off of everything. And so that’s where I found myself at the end of my pregnancy. The doctor very chipperly told me, “Well sometimes vomiting will induce labor!” And I found myself praying that the first chapter of my birth story would not begin with me in the fetal position on the bathroom floor. Do I regret praying that? Sometimes. Because that began what would be the longest wait of our lives. Waiting for labor to begin.
And since turnabout’s fair play, I’m going to keep you waiting to find out what happens next.