There are going to be physical details discussed in this post which the weak of stomach may not like. If you don’t like such things, pass on. You’ve been warned.
Recently reading aloud has become very difficult, almost impossible. You see, it makes me sick. That’s right sick. As in I throw up.
It’s because of the mucous, phlegm, post-nasal drip, whatever you call it. I’ve got a bunch of it right now. I read somewhere that pregnancy increases mucous production. And it collects in the back of my throat. And makes me gag. Which when you’re fighting nausea is just not a good thing. And for some reason it’s much, much worse when I read aloud; but no apparent difference when I’m just conversing. Don’t know if it’s something in the way I breathe or hold my tongue or position my mouth or what. But it’s really annoying.
The other day I was reading to Bella. The Very Quiet Cricket. And about half way through the story I had to unceremoniously pick her up, drop a very startled and not very happy Bella beside the chair and run for the bathroom. Hurdling the baby gate, I just made it in time. And poor Bella stood on the other side of the gate and wailed while I threw up.
The past few nights Dom and I have had to skip saying evening prayer together before bed. I felt too sick and even the thought of trying to read the psalms made me gag. Even this, Lord? I wanted to wail. Bad enough I can’t read to my daughter without getting sick; but not to be able to pray…. Then again, who am I to determine what is too much to sacrifice.
i keep reminding myself what I said after Bella was born: it’s all worth it. I’d do it again for her. And I am willing to sacrifice whatever is necessary, bear whatever pains pregnancy brings, for this little one, this gift from God. But I have to keep looking at the bigger picture because from close up it often seems too much.
Having our son with us from the beginning of our marriage similarly strengthened us, I think. We were always a family that way, not just a “couple,” and really, that makes a big difference in the way we saw ourselves and each other—separately, and as a unit! And our goals, that way, were always both personal and familial!