Lessons in Grace

I forget sometimes that I'm sick.

I mean this in all honesty, because if you've ever gone through an on going sickness you know that those days that you feel wonderful, you want to hold onto them forever. Maybe you even have a week or a month where things go well.

So when you relapse (for lack of a better word) it throws you way the heck off.

We've been doing really well. We are moved into my In-Laws, I didn't have to move very much, and the transition here has been wonderful. So far, so good. I think we're all realizing that we are different people and Blair and I have our space. It's very respected and I appreciate that. Honestly we work a lot, so we aren't home much, and when we are, we kinda just hide up here.

It was hard for me to say good bye to our little apartment, I may or may not have cried. However, seeing the money in our account and knowing that we DON'T have to pay rent and that that money can go to other things (like say, paying our amazing midwife) makes this all so worth it.

Though I've been incredibly tired lately and though I pee all the time in the middle of the night, the HG has slowed way the heck down.

When it struck again last night, the emotional toll that it took brought me to tears, several times. I've been working a new job and I love it, I really truly honestly love it so much I can't even begin to tell you how wonderful it is. I just can't help but question the timing...

I've gone from working about 30 hours to working about 15 to working 40. Saturdays are the only days that I have off at the moment, and the worst part is that Blair started a new job where he has to work on Saturdays. Our long weekends together, sadly, have come to an end. We knew that they would. It's why we cherish so much the time that we DO have together. It's why I turn off my computer and listen to him talk about his book. It's why he comes and just spends time with me in our room. We make quality time for one another, we need it.

This Saturday I went to a Fundraiser for our Library (that's the new job...). I was only out until 9:20. They made sure I rested and had water and ate and everything. So from twelve to five in the morning, when I couldn't sleep because my hips hurt so much and then the three and four AM puking sessions hit, I was so so so done. I sat in our bathroom crying and praying that God would please, please make it stop. Please. All I wanted was to go to sleep. Fast forward to the next day when I thought I could go to my shift at the Library...I made it about two hours. I get incredibly embarrassed when I throw up at work or in public places.

I ended up home and passed out for a couple hours. So far I've kept some soup (which my MIL made because she knows I love it!) and some crackers, and thankfully water down. Those were the physical sides of the past 24...

Here are the emotional...

I want Ellie. I love her. I have this incredibly doofy look when I see her and feel her move. I get excited, I talk to her, I fuss at her, I push her sharp little bum out of my way because gracious she hurts. But...I have really come to the conclusion that pregnant is not my thing. I feel...so unlike myself that I can't...even remember who I was before I was sick. I hope and pray that once she is here this will let up (for some woman, it takes a while). I want her here, now. I want to speed up the next weeks and meet her. I want to hide in my room until she's here. I want to be done.

This scares me. Because pregnancy, I feel, takes patience. I'm waiting for her to decide she wants to be born, what if she waits longer than I want? And man, last night, I felt like a sissy. I woke Blair up and cried and had him trying all sorts of ways to help my hips and back stop hurting. As one point I asked him if he really thought that we could have her at home without any medicine and without people constantly all up in my junk. He still believes in me.

Can we talk about this man? He wins. You all have no idea. None. I'm not as strong and confident as I appear to be, and Blair knows this. I speak out all my fears and guilt and worries and he is constantly reminding me of what I really want, what he really wants. He is constantly telling me that he will be here with me and for me. He even wants us to look into getting a birthing tub because the water has ministered to me in an amazing way. I really hope when Eleanor is born, that someone takes him out for a beer or shot of whiskey or something. He's been patient and wonderful and I just don't know if I could have done this part without him.

I am at war within myself a lot of times. I feel like there are all these experiences that shaped me and molded me. So while I think one thing, at the same time I'm kicking myself in the butt for feeling that way. I hate myself for not being able to enjoy this pregnancy. I hate that I can't just let it come and go the way it has, knowing at the end it's all worth it. Knowing I want the sleepless nights with my daughter, knowing that labor might take me a long time, knowing that I might think this will never end. I know, in my heart, that this little life in me is so so so worth it. But I hate hate hate the process. And I am so so so tired of throwing up. Of being sick. Of forgetting that I am sick, that this is a medical condition.

Last night and today was like how it was in November through the beginning of February, when it was bad. All I could think was, what if it gets really bad again? Would my new job understand? Are people going to stop caring? See they all tell you enjoy this and enjoy this time, people have told me that throughout this whole pregnancy. Stop. I don't. I'm not going to. That part I've come to terms with. I promise you that I know that my daughter coming to this world will make it, be patient, I'm still not there, I still have these days.

I've learned a lot because of Eleanor. I'm still learning all these little lessons in Grace and Forgiveness. Praying and hoping that I don't embarrass myself too much a long the way. I've never...never called on God the way that I have been recently. It's this primal instinct in me that wants so badly for God to please please please take this from me. I'm working on the "being patient in suffering" thing.

Emotionally, this past 24 hours, has had me all over the place. From scared to confused to angry to worried to just plain annoyed that I couldn't keep food down.

I'm praying that I sleep better tonight, that I can go to work in the morning. That I continue on until the day that Blair gets to catch Ellie in our little room here at his parents.

Each day at a time, each moment, each second I'm learning that I'm allowed my feelings, that I'm allowed Grace, that I've got to forgive myself, even if half the time I don't know what it's for...