I'm sick. I'm sick and tired and tired of being sick.
I always considered myself a tough person, someone that can withstand and handle hard things but I've learned I'm not. I'm weak and it took the smallest most frail little fetus to teach me.
This is my 8th week of nausea, vomiting and feeling horrible. I haven't made more than a sandwich in my kitchen for almost 60 days. My diet went from healthy whole foods to white bread, pop chips and more white bread. I used to spend my evenings with my husband, cooking dinner, being with friends, going on walks, working on projects. Now I crumple on the sofa or my bed moaning holding my bloated angry stomach trying not to think about how much I want to throw up - if I do I'll get 30min of sweet relief then I'll have to find more food to feed myself and be right back where I started. So I turn on netflix and watch some mindless show to distract me from my mounting nausea and pass the time until it's finally late enough to go to bed, like 8:30.
This cycle was fine and manageable for the first couple weeks but not for eight.
I have done everything I can think of and a dozen other women can think of, to make this better, including what I've landed on and become very fond of, denial. I have distanced myself from the reality that this is my life right now. This week I told my co-workers to call me Nancy because someone else has taken over my life and I'm no where to be found. Honestly, I thought it was funny and quite witty at the time, but it's not. I have been working so hard at just getting through this and doing whatever I can to make it better that I have actually stopped living. Samantha is gone Nancy is here.
But even in this I can hear the whisper of God in my heart asking me to be present with Him. In the thick of this grossness. How can I be present with God if I've decided Samantha is no longer here, instead it's negative Nancy fighting for a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel.
I told Chris last night this CANNOT be normal. I forbid him to say anything that is happening during this time is normal. If this were normal I would have to face the fact that this is real life, Samantha is here and life is happening and I'm missing my opportunity to participate. I am fighting so hard against this being normal; throwing up will not be normal, moaning in bed wishing to fall asleep will not be normal, missing opportunities to connect with my husband will not be normal. I refuse to accept that this is life. That I wake up each morning with throwing up and nausea as my constant companions. I would rather say this will pass I don't have to engage in it. It will all go away and all will be better and back to the real normal soon.
But with tears welling up in my eyes my heart knows that's not life, just trying to get by and wishing for night to come so I can sleep through my pain isn't life.
All that said this suffering is suffering, I am greiving loss and coping with pain BUT it's for such a short short time with the biggest reward at the end. This isn't for nothing, each second I feel nauseous there is a second little heart beating inside my body! A true miracle is underway and even though I feel like death there is an actual life forming inside of me - sheesh!
The timing of all of this is interesting. We have been journeying through Lent, a time of sacrifice leading up to next week, Holy Week. The time when we remember Jesus' sacrifice and suffering. How fitting.
I don't know how to engage in Christ's suffering but I can hear Him calling me. I hear Him calling me out of my denial, my distancing, out of my just trying to get by and into the present. But if I'm present I have to accept that this is where I am, that this is reality. I have been striped of my joy, my want to, my desire to be with others and traded living for my bed, netflix and saltine crackers. I hate that I can't go grocery shopping without dry heaving or that I haven't made a meal in 2 months or that when 5:00pm rolls around I turn into a bump on a log that doesn't engage in life.
God what are you saying to me?
How can I be present with you?
I think you want me to accept this, to take a deep breath and do like Paul and give thanks in all things. I'll be honest, it's easy to give thanks for this little life inside of me, for the privilege to carry Chris and my child but I'd rather not give thanks in the sickness.
I think you want me to peel my eyes off of the light at the end of the tunnel and put them onto what you are doing in me right now, not when I feel better, but right now, in the grossness of who I am and how I feel.
One thing I have really been avoiding is the possibility that this may not just last 14 weeks, it could last 40...and what if it does? I want to cry myself into oblivion. But it could, that could be my story.
I've made a decision. No matter how scary or how many tears I cry I've decided to take it on. I'll crawl out of my denial, out of the dark tunnel waiting for the light at the end and I'll focus my eyes on Jesus. I'll work at being present. Whether it's for the next 4 days 4 weeks or 40 weeks I will accept this new normal and live in the reality that this is who I am right now. I will spend time with friends, show up at events and embrace the vulnerability of being present with people in the midst of it.
Jesus help me remember this decision, I know I'll have to make it over and over again. I need your grace.
