I have so much to do right now. God has blessed me with speaking opportunities, so I have messages to prepare. God has blessed me with opportunities to write, so I have a list of things that need to be written. But all I can think about is Pac Man. Seriously. Pac Man.
And napping. I think I could take a nap at least twice a day every day for the next four months – and STILL go to bed at 9 p.m.
A pile of clean and folded laundry is waiting to be put away – laundry that my husband did and folded. I should make some lunch. I need to dust the house. But only the most pressing things are done.
Am I depressed? No. The problem, the one that drives me to play Pac Man and take multiple naps, is this tiny little alien growing inside me, causing my body to rebel.
While the first trimester of this pregnancy was fairly easy, this second trimester – when it’s supposed to get better – has gone downhill fast. At 18 1/2 weeks pregnant (nearly five months), I find myself vomiting daily, among other pregnancy-related frustrations you probably don’t want to know about.
So what does that have to do with Pac Man?
So glad you asked! Pac Man is my mindless little game, accompanied by fond childhood memories, that allows me to sit still (giving me relief from the severe motion sickness I sometimes get when I walk around) and relax. It keeps my mind occupied so I don’t GET depressed thinking about how yucky I feel, and yet it doesn’t require me to think too much.
I’ve finally succumbed to the sad reality that I need to go back on the anti-nausea drug, Zofran, around the clock. This means setting alarms every eight hours to remind me to take it. When I did that during my last pregnancy, most of the nausea and vomiting stopped. If I missed a pill by 30 minutes, it returned with a vengeance. I was so hopeful not to need it this time around, but at least it’s available. I cannot imagine what women with this kind of hyperemesis gravidarum did pre-Zofran. I can only imagine that they died from malnutrition and dehydration, or wished to die. Not that my current symptoms are making me overly-dramatic or anything…
I was really afraid of what Zofran would do to my daughter, but as I look at her healthy, happy, perfect little face, my fears are alleviated. She’s never had any of the problems I feared. I pray God will protect this new baby just as He did her.
My dear husband has again become the dishwasher, laundry-manager, and so forth. This time he has the added responsibility of official messy diaper-changer, among other responsibilities related to our 10 1/2 month old daughter. I’m pretty sure he’s tired of hearing the Pac Man music in the background and ready to have his wife back.
Only 21 1/2 more weeks to go, sweetheart. We’re almost halfway there!
It’s all worth it, of course. From the moment they laid my sweet daughter in my arms, following delivery with an epidural that I didn’t get in time to do much good, all I could think of was, “Let’s do it again!” Every moment of misery was worth the joy of seeing her sweet face, of experiencing her growth, and celebrating her life. Nine months of misery for a lifetime with this precious life is a small price to pay. God has answered my prayers and I am grateful.
Grateful, and yawning… Is it time for another nap?