A year ago today, Peter and I got up early to bike to the 7:30 hot yoga class. It was a Tuesday. On Sunday I took a pregnancy test because my period was a week late. It was positive and we were overjoyed. We weren’t trying, but we got married during my fertile time, so. There’s that.
Today at yoga I was going to avoid the ab stuff for the baby’s safety, but it was fine that I still do yoga and even encouraged that I keep exercising. We got into the class and it felt extra hot today. Whatever. Harder workout.
Shortly after we got started I wasn’t feeling well at all. I was blacking out. So I laid down on my mat and was going to join in when they started the next routine. So I did, but I just felt dizzy again and had to lay down once more to avoid fainting. Did I eat enough for breakfast? Did I sleep enough last night? I wasn’t even thinking about the possibility of morning sickness.
It got to a point where I needed to leave the class. I laid on the couch by the locker rooms and waited for the class to finish. I just hung out with my eyes closed, but my tummy started to hurt. Oh, maybe I have to poop. So I went in the locker room to give it a go. Nope. That wasn’t it. But I still felt like terrible. So I sat on a bench by my locker. The class was almost over. A lady came in. She was here for the next class. She saw me and asked, “Are you feeling okay?” Great, it was obvious I wasn’t looking good. Then my gut said it’s time to go back into the bathroom stall. “Excuse me,” and I ran in and threw up. That feels better. What did I eat yesterday? It still didn’t occur to me. I hear outside of the stall,
“You’re totally pregnant!”
Oh, that’s what it is. I forgot about morning sickness.
I felt loads better after hurling, and went back outside the classroom to wait for Pete. We biked back home, and I was fine, but I still felt icky and faint. So I laid in bed most of the day before our classes started tomorrow.
That was the start of laying in bed almost every day for eight months. I was going to classes for awhile, but then I couldn’t trust making it to the bathroom anymore. And I felt so dizzy and faint all the time.
It continued to get worse. I started throwing up so much I would lose count. My gut hurt so badly. I was getting so dehydrated that I felt like sandpaper. I had to get hospitalized. I had an at-home nurse. I was losing weight rather than gaining. I cried most of the day every day those first couple months. I would sleep just to pass the time. I’d wonder to myself if this is the day that I’ll finally die and the pain will finally go away.
Peter and I lived out the “in sickness and in health” part of our vows really quickly. We were only married for a month. This last year has felt like five. After we had Zelie, it felt like we were newly married again. I could actually stand and move around and go to things and do things all without being in chronic pain.
Today is an odd day. It marks our thirteenth month of marriage. It marks one year when I first got sick. For the last couple days Zelie has been fighting a cold. I’m worn. I’m tired. The pile of dishes are tall, and the pile of laundry is taller. I need to shower really bad. I’ve missed a bunch of my 5k training.
But today is someone’s birthday. It’s the Blessed Mother’s birthday. She was called to this earth to suffer with her own pregnancy, raise a Child, and watch Him suffer. She also lived a very hard life, so I am not surprised that I too started my own suffering on this day.