blessed
The world has changed and my world has changed since I last wrote here.
We are now in the middle of a global pandemic with COVID-19. Since mid-March our friends, family, and the rest of the prudent world have been "sheltering-in-place" (avoiding leaving the house as much as possible and avoiding social contact.) The lucky ones have someone to shelter with, masks on hand to take a walk outside, a steady paycheck, and a work-from-home-able job. 33 million in the US are now newly unemployed - a historic low worse than the Great Depression.
I am one of the lucky ones, and I woke up this morning feeling extra grateful this Sunday morning. Alejandro was up at 4:30am to round at the hospital and jumped right back into bed when he got home at 8am. I watched him sleep for a little (not creepy at all) and soaked in the moment, grateful to have him healthy and safe beside me, and oh-so-grateful that he is the father of my child. Then I walked to the bathroom and took a moment to eye my side profile, my 28-week bump, and soak in that moment as well. Grateful my son came into existence so willingly and continues to be healthy and grow well.
For the first 20+ weeks of my pregnancy, I considered myself one of the unlucky ones. Starting at 4 weeks I suffered terrible nausea and food aversions. By food aversions, I mean every meal was a 30 min-1hr struggle to think of what I could possibly tolerate, and even then, no guarantees. Once, after finally deciding I could maybe tolerate Chinese food, Alejandro and I drove out to Chengdu Gourmet. We ordered ~4 dishes that I meticulously settled on after reading the entire menu. I spit out the first piece of cucumber that hit my mouth. Then I spit out the Dan Dan noodles that I knew I loved so much before pregnancy. The taste in my mouth - I knew logically that it was delicious - but my pregnancy brain found it absolutely foul. In that moment, tears actually started rolling down my face. Even just being there enveloped by the smell of the restaurant made me sick to my stomach. Alejandro waved the waitress over and asked for to-go bags - his food had not even arrived yet. For someone who loves food so much, the struggle of hating food for months on was nothing short of devastating. In those months, I could not even bear to hear about food, much less look at food. In combination with the near constant nausea, fatigue, bloating, loss of interest in doing anything but remaining moored to my couch hoping for any single moment of relief, I felt I could legitimately call myself depressed.
People kept saying it'll get better second trimester! 12 weeks! 14 weeks! 15 weeks! Well the 20 week mark passed and I was still nauseous af. In February, a giant chunk of my back molar fell out - dental decay from pregnancy. Starting around 12-15 weeks I also developed progressive and debilitating pelvic/groin pain. I remained moody af. My sense of smell was insane - I could smell the scent of coffee grinds buried deep in our trashcan 5 hours after they had been ground and it would cause me 3 hours of unremitting nausea. I've loved kids since as long as I can remember, and suddenly I found that no kid was cute, and I hated looking at pictures of babies. But life somehow pushed me forward. Mid March I cooked again for the first time. It felt absolutely victorious. Early April I downloaded the BBG app and started easing back into a gentle exercise program along with Alejandro. The COVID-19 pandemic locked our nation down and I started working from home such that I could avoid the worst smell in the world - the Children's hospital cafeteria. Slowly but surely I could look at food pics again, and with that came the ability to look at cute baby pics. And with that came the ability to feel...happiness? again, and excitement for our son who I know is the biggest gift of our lives to come.
These days, I just feel so lucky. I've read so many stories of infertility, miscarriage and heartbreak. My son spared me all of that. Week 17 he even started fluttering in my stomach, letting me know he was there - far earlier than for most 1st time mothers my Ob-gyn said. Sure, I still wake up in the morning and take a few extra seconds to turn slowly so that my pelvis doesn't split in two. I hobble around the house and can't exercise to the degree that I see other far more pregnant women doing. I still get intermittent waves of nausea and fatigue. I'm still picky about food although much less so. My reflux and heartburn symptoms are now TUMS and BID pepcid-level insane. But the overwhelming and overarching feeling is gratefulness that our little family is safe, healthy, and together. Life feels close to perfect today, and that (despite the entire body of my post), is really what I wanted to say. :P
We are now in the middle of a global pandemic with COVID-19. Since mid-March our friends, family, and the rest of the prudent world have been "sheltering-in-place" (avoiding leaving the house as much as possible and avoiding social contact.) The lucky ones have someone to shelter with, masks on hand to take a walk outside, a steady paycheck, and a work-from-home-able job. 33 million in the US are now newly unemployed - a historic low worse than the Great Depression.
I am one of the lucky ones, and I woke up this morning feeling extra grateful this Sunday morning. Alejandro was up at 4:30am to round at the hospital and jumped right back into bed when he got home at 8am. I watched him sleep for a little (not creepy at all) and soaked in the moment, grateful to have him healthy and safe beside me, and oh-so-grateful that he is the father of my child. Then I walked to the bathroom and took a moment to eye my side profile, my 28-week bump, and soak in that moment as well. Grateful my son came into existence so willingly and continues to be healthy and grow well.
For the first 20+ weeks of my pregnancy, I considered myself one of the unlucky ones. Starting at 4 weeks I suffered terrible nausea and food aversions. By food aversions, I mean every meal was a 30 min-1hr struggle to think of what I could possibly tolerate, and even then, no guarantees. Once, after finally deciding I could maybe tolerate Chinese food, Alejandro and I drove out to Chengdu Gourmet. We ordered ~4 dishes that I meticulously settled on after reading the entire menu. I spit out the first piece of cucumber that hit my mouth. Then I spit out the Dan Dan noodles that I knew I loved so much before pregnancy. The taste in my mouth - I knew logically that it was delicious - but my pregnancy brain found it absolutely foul. In that moment, tears actually started rolling down my face. Even just being there enveloped by the smell of the restaurant made me sick to my stomach. Alejandro waved the waitress over and asked for to-go bags - his food had not even arrived yet. For someone who loves food so much, the struggle of hating food for months on was nothing short of devastating. In those months, I could not even bear to hear about food, much less look at food. In combination with the near constant nausea, fatigue, bloating, loss of interest in doing anything but remaining moored to my couch hoping for any single moment of relief, I felt I could legitimately call myself depressed.
People kept saying it'll get better second trimester! 12 weeks! 14 weeks! 15 weeks! Well the 20 week mark passed and I was still nauseous af. In February, a giant chunk of my back molar fell out - dental decay from pregnancy. Starting around 12-15 weeks I also developed progressive and debilitating pelvic/groin pain. I remained moody af. My sense of smell was insane - I could smell the scent of coffee grinds buried deep in our trashcan 5 hours after they had been ground and it would cause me 3 hours of unremitting nausea. I've loved kids since as long as I can remember, and suddenly I found that no kid was cute, and I hated looking at pictures of babies. But life somehow pushed me forward. Mid March I cooked again for the first time. It felt absolutely victorious. Early April I downloaded the BBG app and started easing back into a gentle exercise program along with Alejandro. The COVID-19 pandemic locked our nation down and I started working from home such that I could avoid the worst smell in the world - the Children's hospital cafeteria. Slowly but surely I could look at food pics again, and with that came the ability to look at cute baby pics. And with that came the ability to feel...happiness? again, and excitement for our son who I know is the biggest gift of our lives to come.
These days, I just feel so lucky. I've read so many stories of infertility, miscarriage and heartbreak. My son spared me all of that. Week 17 he even started fluttering in my stomach, letting me know he was there - far earlier than for most 1st time mothers my Ob-gyn said. Sure, I still wake up in the morning and take a few extra seconds to turn slowly so that my pelvis doesn't split in two. I hobble around the house and can't exercise to the degree that I see other far more pregnant women doing. I still get intermittent waves of nausea and fatigue. I'm still picky about food although much less so. My reflux and heartburn symptoms are now TUMS and BID pepcid-level insane. But the overwhelming and overarching feeling is gratefulness that our little family is safe, healthy, and together. Life feels close to perfect today, and that (despite the entire body of my post), is really what I wanted to say. :P
Happy Mother's Day! <3
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