Well, I did it. I was up at my target time of 6:30 this morning, only to come downstairs and almost immediately hear my little Monkey on the monitor. Does it count that I was up and then had to go back upstairs and snuggle on top of the bed with my Monkey? I dearly hope so!
I have a tendency to get to the point during my pregnancies where I have to give up things I really enjoy, like singing at church. It's not that I can no longer sing. It's not even that I have trouble breathing--I know that can be difficult for many women...the bigger the bean, the less lung space you end up with. No, for me it has everything to do with rather low blood pressure (yes, it can be a not-such-a-good thing) and the fact that I become light-headed and sweaty...and indeed threaten to pass out on the very spot.
It begins with the Nausea Bug. Never have I been pregnant and not pukey.
With my Frog, the Nausea Bug harassed me from one end of pregnancy to the other, including necessitating several trips to hospital for the infusion of delicious, nourishing saline. I guess when it's a hot, humid August (what? Yes, we have humidity in the Midwest. For Pete's sake, in the summer, it's actually renamed the Humidwest, but this is a relatively little known fact.) and you're sweating buckets AND expelling all fluids including water a la Exorcist style, there is concern of dehydration. I was even put on Bathroom Only Bed rest in an effort to gain weight (don't worry--I've made up for it since!!) toward the end of that pregnancy. Though the Bug fought valiantly, the Frog came out the following March (my own little Spring Peeper), pink and healthy and fat, even if I was less so.
With my Pickle, it was much the same, although not quite as bad. I'd begin a meal with my family, and then be called into battle with the Nausea Bug in the middle. I'd excuse myself to......well, you know.....and then come back and eat twice as much as I'd started out with and be fine. The Bug was a little quirky that way...I could eat sometimes, and sometimes the Bug pestered me and sometimes it didn't. I was just happy to not have to deal with the constant hunger that I'd felt when I was carrying the Frog. The Pickle made his appearance in April--spring, like his sister. Again with pink and healthy and all that.
My Reepicheep was another story. I loved this story. I want this story to be re-read over and over and over.....First of all, she was a Thanksgiving bird, so by the time summer hit I was over all the really early pregnancy nausea stuff. At thirteen weeks and one day, the Nausea Bug saw that it was not getting the better of me. It packed it's pathetic little bag and left, never to return!! There are two sides to this sword, though. First of all, it was glorious to be able to eat what I wanted, when I wanted, without fear of having to drop my fork to do Bug battle. But on the other hand, I ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, for Pete's sake. I did not have any trouble at all packing on the pounds with the Reep. It was OK, really, because I needed a few more pounds. Even with the weight gain, Reepicheep was my smallest baby (and oh how I enjoyed that!). But, like her sister and brother, she was pink and healthy, and that's what we like to see.
My Monkey was a bit of a trial. Believe me, Scopes has nothing on me. We carried the cross of mostly unexplained secondary infertility for four long years in an effort to conceive the Monkey. I say mostly unexplained because I do have endometriosis, but that's another entry entirely. The Nausea Bug came right on time, at about 4 weeks, and unpacked it's measly bag. It had gained, since I had last sent it packing, a new lounge chair, and a television with remote control. The wretch settled in, put up it's stinky little feet and generally made itself at home. Because of other circumstances surrounding my pregnancy (again, another entry...), I don't remember exactly when the Bug finally gave up it's attempts, but it must have because I gained quite a bit of weight with that boy. I do, however, remember that we literally moved the kitchen garbage can to outside the bathroom door, because I frequently lost the battles before we even marched onto the porcelain field....but it did eventually leave, thank heaven. The Monkey was my pinkest, healthiest (and biggest!) baby, and made his appearance on the coldest day of that year. Oh, it was only seventeen degrees BELOW zero that day. (A bit of a difference from the sweltering humidity of the summer...we literally have temperatures that range more than one hundred degrees....)
So I've been bitten. The Bug has begun tapping on the door. I am ignoring this insipid little creature, and intend to go on eating whatever gets in my way until I can't anymore.
On Sunday, I realized that it may not be long before I have to step aside from the cantor stand. We had a Communion hymn that was rather on the long side (O Sons and Daughters, with all the eerily beautiful Alleluias in the refrain)--we actually sang all 8 verses--and I knew I had to either sit, and quickly, or meet the floor with a bang. I chose the more subtle and began pondering how much I miss cantoring when I'm pregnant......
Who's the patron saint of Morning Sickness? Who under heaven came up with the term Morning Sickness? Whomever it was failed to notice that the Bug carries no timepiece, knows no side of noon, and could care less if it's breakfast or supper.
Maybe I can evict the Bug early this time, like I did with Reepicheep. After all, though battle has been waged, so far I have prevailed. Watch out Bug.....this time, I'm ready.