I kneel in the bathroom with my hair pulled back as the episodes grow more intense and more frequent.  I drop my head and let out a sigh.  My spirit drops lower.  My soul sighs deeper.  “Morning sickness,” they call it.  Frankly, it feels more like morning death.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, brush my teeth, and continue to get dressed.  I try to go on with the day as usual, but everything is harder.  I move slower.  I fatigue easily.  I don’t even desire the foods that I used to love but instead crave some really weird stuff.  Wonderful.  The thought of turning pickles and ice cream into a human being makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.  Truly a miracle, I’d say.

I go in for my ultrasound.  The doctor reassures me of the excellent progress.  Apparently this reoccurring incident of my insides wanting to be on the outside is good thing.  Normal.  Healthy.  Riiight.  He then proceeds to give me a snapshot of my baby and directs my attention to the developing fetus.  That?  Really?  I think it looks like a legume.  Great, all this bloating and peeing and mood swinging (which feels, dangerously, like a pendulum blade)…for a bean.  This is all very encouraging.  Glad I came, Doc.  Glad I got pregnant.

I leave the office wanting to throw up, again.  I leave sore and sensitive and want to drink a can of Cheez Whiz.  All the while, this thing remains inside of me.  It weighs me down and gets in the way of everything.  I think on the present, and I become discouraged.  I can’t go on like this for much longer.

So I think on the future.

…And I begin to feel encouraged.  Hope begins to build inside of me as I imagine stroking my baby’s little cheek and giving it Eskimo kisses, as I imagine watching my baby falling off his skateboard or her balance beam for the first time, as I imagine sending my baby into the world to leave his or her mark on it.  I think on the future.  I fight to remain on it, for although the now I am feeling hurts, the later I know will be worth it.  Whatever he or she may look like or turn out to be, I declare it for and over this growing thing inside of me–worth it.

—–

Pregnancy is a fascinating phenomenon.  Now, I’ve never been through it personally (rest assured, this is all metaphorical), and I can’t say that I know what I am talking about.  I don’t claim to.  Still, I’ve had some pregnant friends in this season of life and it’s undeniably one of the most riveting acts to witness something supernatural happening inside of someone in the natural.  That goes without saying, I do not want to make light of the trials and tribulations and pain that often comes with pregnancy.  Even so, an interesting fact I learned this past week is that the first trimester is always the most difficult.  It’s when the majority of morning sickness episodes happen.  It’s also when the majority of abortions and miscarriages happen.

Therefore, as for me and this growing God-sized dream inside of me, I will not abort it.  I will work hard to take care of and foster and, well, endure it.  For though it is just the size of a bean now, I realize this is just the beginning–the sickening and stomach-churning beginning…of something beautiful.