a lot of thoughts about hyperemesis, what God expects, and feeling down.

the days are seeming to run together. weeks go by in a flash. the past month is a blur of exhausted mornings, pool days and stroller walks with fellow moms, changing diapers, and cooing over my beautiful boy. it's been two months. time is the strangest thing.

my body is growing accustomed to being tired all the time, which is helpful for getting things done during the day. physically i almost feel totally back to normal. i still have five pounds to lose, but i've seen a big difference since starting to exercise.

i had an IUD put in, this time the mirena instead of the paraguard. having an IUD put in after childbirth is not a big deal. having the paraguard pre-baby was extremely painful. this time, dr. barton slipped it in and i had to ask, "wait, we're done? that's it?" no big deal. having a pap smear was also pain free, a first. having a baby was the best thing i ever did for my vagina.

and post birth sex? yeah, it was pretty painful. nothing like the painful honeymoon sex, but still pretty intense. i can't stress enough the importance of talking to your partner about sex. regardless of whether or not you're having relations for the first time since giving birth. you should always be able to sit down and talk to your partner about your sex life and not in a dirty, sexy way, which you should also do if you're into that, but in a safe way that allows you both to talk about expectations, comfort levels, etc. if you can't talk to your partner about sex, you shouldn't be having sex with that person. end of story.

also, use tons of lube, go slow, go even slower, and know that it won't be painful forever. seriously, having a vagina is kind of awful sometimes.

we took our first road trip with remington. he did really well in the car, but cried for a long time after driving there and then home. we think his ears may have been hurting from elevation changes. seriously remy, use your words; things will be so much easier to figure out. i'm sure i'll post pictures of all this excitement sometime.



i've had a hard time writing anything down lately.
for the most part, i'm really, really happy. taking care of a baby is exhausting and hard and figuring out who does what can be stressful on marriage. but we're figuring things out slowly and surely.
i feel like i have a lot to say, but i've had some weird writer's block that i'm not used to.

one thing that really eats at me is the idea of having another baby.
i spend a good part of every day feeling anxious about getting pregnant.
i don't even know how to express this, and i feel that no one really understands this fear, which makes the fear even worse, and i feel that every time i try to talk to someone about it, they don't get it and i don't know how to say it.

i thought i could say it here, because this is usually my safe space.

my pregnancy is still so fresh in my mind, how terrifying it was to be that sick for that long.
today i looked back through my instagram pictures i took while pregnant and read the captions i put for them. each picture had been taken before or after throwing up, but i hadn't mentioned it. i tried to put a humorous spin on everything and at the time humor was one of the only things i used to cope. looking back through those pictures, i could remember vividly what happened that day. how i'd been stuck inside all morning puking, all alone because travis was working so much last fall, and i felt trapped inside the house. how i'd taken a walk, a very slow, hobbling kind of walk, down to the lake and sat by the man-made beach and cried. praying over and over that i would feel better when i woke up the next morning. every morning waking up and realizing i was still sick. once in a while, i'd wake up and not puke that morning, and i would think, i've turned the corner, i'm getting better. i still felt nauseous and terrible, but at least i hadn't puked. i still couldn't eat anything, but at least i hadn't puked. and then later in the day i would start throwing up again and realize i wasn't getting better. i don't know how that hope hung on for so long, if that's something that's just inside each of us.

i don't want to keep remembering all this. i can't help it. there's that PTSD i know so well.

last night i had a panic attack. a really big long scary one. i was making travis a grilled ham, egg, and cheese, and all the sudden my heart started to pound. i thought, oh no, i know what's about to happen. i started walking around, drawing the blinds shut, cleaning up crumbs on the countertops, doing anything to distract myself, but i knew i couldn't stop what was about to happen. after cutting his sandwich in half, i excused myself and headed upstairs to my bathroom. travis was tired after a twelve hour shift at one of his part time jobs and i didn't feel comfortable falling apart in front of anyone. same old story, feeling completely alone and afraid and that no one could ever understand. travis came upstairs and found me on the floor, same old story.

in those moments, it's like i'm back there again, feeling completely alone, stuck in my body, unable to eat anything, unable to stop puking, unable to shower, to clean my house, having no clean underwear left but being to sick to do laundry and not knowing how to ask for help, trying ginger, vitamin b6, saltines, eating small meals, getting fresh air, chewing gum, anything to help, nurses telling me over and over that it's normal to be sick, no one understanding, my sense of smell being on overdrive, the migraines, everything, even sunlight, making the nausea worse, being unable to sleep, having hunger pains unlike anything else and not knowing what i could eat, being terrified of the smell of bacon, wetting myself because the vomiting is so violent, everyone saying it will be worth it, nurses at infusion never wanting to be my nurse because i'm a hard stick because of how dehydrated i am, driving to the hospital over and over knowing i'm going to be poked several times and dreading the pain, being terrified any time travis left me to go to work, trying to drive myself somewhere and holding a puke bucket in my lap and telling myself stories to distract myself from nausea, carrying those blue plastic barf bags in my purse, watching pregnant women having wonderful, easy pregnancies and feeling so jealous, spending nights alone on the couch, watching the clock, realizing i need to eat something, my throat feeling raw and burning, throwing up baked potatoes, throwing up everything.

i called my mom, who was the first person to understand how sick i was and who is one of the only people i feel really gets it. she dropped everything and drove right over, held me in her arms and listened to my worries. travis put remy in my arms and reminded me that it's over, that we have our beautiful son, that i did it. i felt better after they talked to me.

i don't post about religion very often. my relationship with God is sacred to me and i don't usually put that out here because i don't need to hear what others think about it. but since having remington, i'm having a hard time. this is all getting so jumbled and unorganized.

when i was thinking about getting my tubes tied, i really thought about it. could i really make a decision that final. could i really close the door on having another baby. the thing that terrifies me the most, more than being sick, more than being unable to care for myself, is the realization that i would miss out on remington's life. i would miss out on almost an entire year of his life. someone else would have to take care of him. that was the thing that really hit me.

but then i felt this terrible guilt. i don't know how to tell the difference between what God wants for me and what my culture has conditioned me to feel.

"but what about all those other spirits who are waiting  for bodies."
"but what about brothers and sisters for remington."
"but we are supposed to have a minivan full of kids."

and the one that really chaps my behind, that i heard a family member say last weekend,

"there's a scripture in the old testament that talks about how in the last days, women will refuse to have children. that is so terrible."

no man should ever get to say that. no person who hasn't experienced pregnancy and childbirth should ever judge anyone for what they choose regarding children.

i know all of this. so why am i having such a hard time trusting that God loves me and that it's my body and i should get to choose.

over and over i think, i can't do that again. i can't. 

so why do i feel guilty? why do i feel that this God who i have trusted my whole life would expect me to suffer like that again? i just keep hearing, well it was worth it right? wouldn't it be worth it again? didn't you learn and grow so much?

shouldn't i get to decide what happens to my own body? where is all this shame and guilt coming from? what does all this even mean.

this post is getting out of control.

i love remington. and it was worth it. if i'm being honest, i didn't think those words at first. it took a few weeks until one night, remington and i were dancing, listening to music, he was looking up at me with those wise, all knowing newborn eyes, and i said to him without really thinking, "you were worth every minute. every single minute." and then i cried and cried.

then i started talking to remy every time we were somewhere i had thrown up.
at my parents' house. "oh look, we used to stand out here on the porch and throw up outside so no one would have to clean it up and so we wouldn't have to smell dinner cooking."
in every bathroom. "oh look, we spent a lot of time on the floor in here."
at my grandparents' house.
on every couch. on the floor. "oh look, we passed out here, and here too."
in parking lots.
etc. etc. etc.

telling remington about my experience of his pregnancy was strangely healing for me. i can't describe how much i love him and am thankful for his existence.
i'm tired of people saying this to me. "he better be a good baby, after what he put you through."
he didn't put me through anything. it wasn't his fault.

after having my IUD put in, i kept calling the nurse to reassure me that it would work and that i could have sex without getting pregnant. even so, we are using condoms.

when i asked the nurse about getting my tubes tied, she, the medical assistant, and the doctor laughed at me and said i am too young. they may as well have slapped me.

the other day at the grocery store, travis and i walked past a woman who was very pregnant. travis looked at her and was quiet for a minute. then he said, "every time i see a pregnant woman, i just feel terrible for her. i want to apologize to her. i feel so anxious about it." last night after my big panic attack, he told me he doesn't think he could go through another pregnancy. these are the things that help me, that validate me.

i don't know.
that was a jumbled up mess of words.

if you having any insight here, i would appreciate it. i'm thinking it's time to go back to counseling and deal with this.

xo.