I LOVE LOVE BABIES!
I LOVE them! I am intoxicated by them! I could hold their sweet bodies and just breathe them for days and days. I cannot wait to nurse a baby again. With each of my children, I was so completely rejuvenated by their entrance into my life, that those first few months with them contained overwhelming energy and JOY and ridiculous love for them and for the whole world. (For anyone who experienced Post-partum Depression, I do not say this in any way to condemn you. I totally believe that it is so real, and I am grateful that for whatever reason, post-birth is the one time my hormones worked in my favor. I pray that it will be the same this time.) I love babies as they grow up. I love being a mom. If pregnancy weren't such a nightmare, I would have ten babies. Maybe I still will.
But sometimes I forget, in my ranting and complaining about hyperemesis, that not everyone really gets what that is, and I could come across as sounding completely ungrateful and whiny and, as one commenter recently put it . . . pathetic.
If I have any spiritual gifts, the only one I am sure of is the gift of mercy. Mercy is usually my first reaction to everything. I generally can enter in quite quickly to someone's pain and find a reason to feel mercy for them. I only say this, to contrast with my reaction to the first person I ever knew who had hyperemesis; all I could think was, Get Over It. A lot of women have morning sickness.
Unless you have experienced it, it is impossible to understand what women with hyperemesis go through. I am fortunate to have a handful of friends who've been through it, and honestly, they are the ones I should be voicing my complaints to. Not my blog. Not facebook. I can't expect other people to understand, because it is a HUGE blessing to have a baby. The best reason ever to be sick. My heart breaks for friends who have been unable to conceive. I pray for them, I know they would trade places with me in a second. I feel horrible for friends experiencing potentially life-threatening diseases. I know that my misery cannot last more than nine months, max, and will in the end produce the great joy of a child. They have no idea when theirs will end. I am very sorry if my complaining has not reflected my true gratitude to the Good God who has given me a life so richly blessed.
God is gracious to speak in our darkness. A commenter gave me this link to a blog of a fellow HG-er, and it so perfectly spoke to the exact place of spiritual desolation that I have experienced in the sickest weeks of all of my pregnancies:
Pray when you are healthy, so that when you are sick you can just be sick. If you are never healthy again, then rest in knowing that prayer--at least as you have known it--is not necessary. Only emptiness and a glance is necessary.Indeed, I prayed those very words-- God I seem incapable of prayer, I only can look to you, I only can hold this up to you . . . . Our God hears the cries of brokenness and emptiness. He invites our questions and complaints. He is there. He hears. He answers even our weakest prayers.
I am also not going to pretend that things are wonderful when they aren't. Even if my life were always perfect, problems remain . . . suffering and injustice, prayers that aren't answered the way we think they should, Christians who are cruel and judgmental; ignoring these things is not reality, and doesn't do anybody any good.
sidenote: this anonymous commenter seems to have a lot to say to me. I know that I am not perfect. If I have hurt you, or offended you somehow in the past I wish that you would email me so that we can try to work it out. Until then, I will monitor the comments on this blog.