NOTE: This blog was written about 3 weeks ago. So in case any of you are keeping close tabs on my health and how far along I am, the timing in this blog is going to sound off. For those of you who have a hard time remembering that I’m even pregnant, this small factoid has no impact on your enjoyment of this article whatsoever.)
I’ve never been one to use medication at the first sign of sickness. I’m not against using medicine, I just prefer to tough it out or use natural remedies. About 80% of the time that works and I don’t need medicine. But then there’s that other 20%…
I haven’t blogged about it much, but those of you who know me personally know that I’ve been nauseous all day every day since I found out I was pregnant. (Side note: I’ve written that word at least 100 times and can never spell it right. I always have to look it up.) For the past 13 weeks I’ve been toughing it out, using natural remedies such as peppermint, change in diet, acupressure, etc. But instead of getting better, it kept getting worse. The last two weeks it was so bad that I had no appetite and every time I ate it was followed by a bouts of pain and serious research into the possibility of stomach transplants.
Yesterday was the final straw. Remember my last post about the wonders of Tums? Those wonders lasted a day. After that, I went into work and after 40 minutes had to leave because the sickness was so bad. I got home and called my Dr office, choking back tears as I begged for medication.
“Do you want Zofran?”
“Sure, whatever you normally give people in this situation, I’ll take it. Just make it stop!!!!”
As I was waiting for my prescription, I struggled with feelings of failure. I had wanted so badly to stay away from medication, to eat healthy and to exercise to provide the best environment for the little bean. I’d learned early on that exercise wasn’t going to be a regular thing, and eating well would be doable but a struggle, but I thought surly I could stay away from meds for nine months. I rarely take meds when I’m not pregnant! But alas, that was not that case. I felt like I’d failed to take care of the baby. But then, a dear friend of mine, who is pregnant with her second, sent me a wonderful bit of encouragement.
First rule of mommyhood, you are not a failure. Ever! You will always do the best you can with the circumstances you’re given. That’s all God asks of us & that’s all our baby asks of us. You’ll forget to change your baby’s diaper and he will get a diaper rash but that does not make you a failure. You’ll be one step too far from him and he’ll fall and get a bruise on his head, not a failure. You’ll have a kid that bites another kid or hits another kid… Still not a failure. These are just parts of parenting that every mom goes through.
That lifted my spirits and gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, I really could do this mom thing. It also made me realize that I must differentiate between disappointment in a situation and feeling like a life failure. When things don’t go the way I plan them, or when I don’t achieve something I set out to do, my automatic reaction is to label myself a failure. The reality is, it’s simply a disappointing situation, not a sign that I suck at everything! I better get used to it, because from what I hear, raising kids never goes according to plan.
So, I got through the emotional aspect of taking meds (side note, now that I’m pregnant it seems that EVERY situation has an emotional aspect. Its exhausting). Then I actually took the drugs and felt even better! The nausea was greatly reduced, I had more energy, I could think a little more clearly and for the rest of the week I actually made it through 8 hours of work a day. I don’t want to get to far ahead of myself, but I’m thinking I might actually be able to start exercising next week. So, turns out the thing that I thought would make me a bad mom is actually making me a better one, as I now have energy to take better care of myself and baby. Thank you Jesus for good friends and prescription drugs!