When I'm Not My Best (As I Haven't Been Lately)

I’ve been battling with myself quite a bit since July. Being somewhat of a perfectionist, I try to be aware of my own personal development as much as I can, and I have not been happy with how I’ve been doing. I found out I was pregnant on July 9th, and I was so excited. I was already pretty sure because even before the positive test, I had felt some fatigue and nausea that reminded me of my pregnancy with Will. About a week after I took the test, I went down. Hard. I threw up so much and had no energy. I would spend most of my day lying on the couch watching Will play or leaning over the toilet trying to reassure my hysterical toddler that his mom was okay. This lasted for two and half months, and it was some of the longest days and weeks of my life.

There were many pajama days

I had the occasional good day, and weekends were better because Ty was home to take care of Will and me, but overall, I was a mess. Amid the vomiting and sleeping, I also learned that I had a placental bleed which is not usually dangerous, but it is something that needs to be monitored, and I needed to be extra careful to take it easy. It wasn’t hard to take it easy since I felt like I could barely walk most of the time, but it was a new sensation to be worried about my baby all the time. My pregnancy with Will was textbook, and on top of that I hardly ever felt nauseous and only threw up a handful of times. Even though I was working and in school for my whole pregnancy with Will, I was usually still able to take a nap if I desperately needed one or to go to bed at 7 to make sure I was getting enough rest. I’ve realized that it’s just harder to take care of yourself while also taking care of a toddler. In the midst of all the temporal chaos, spiritual feasting completely fell by the wayside, and forget any kind of intimacy in my marriage. Days would go by before I would realize that I hadn’t even had a conversation with Tyler beyond telling him how horrible I felt in days.

Making dinner sitting down because I couldn't stand

When I hit 12 weeks, I was sure I would start to feel better. I didn’t. I was still vomiting and still constantly exhausted. My poor toddler was a disaster. He’s a social boy, and not leaving the house for days at a time shut him down. He went home with my mom after she got off of work a couple of times, and he was so happy to be going somewhere and playing with people who could be more engaged. Sometimes I could muster the energy to drive to Pleasant Grove to my parents’ house and lie in the recliner all day while my parents and siblings took care of Will. I knew logically that my body needed rest, but I felt so guilty for the way some of Will’s needs (especially socially) were not being met (specifically by me) because I physically could not do anything to help and support him.

I cried to Tyler that I wasn’t being a good person, and I was an even worse mom. He reassured me that I was doing everything I could, and that it was okay to take care of this baby and myself. Several friends and siblings shared hope with me when I couldn’t see any. I started to feel resentful that being pregnant was making me a bad mom to my child that I already had. I was doing a good thing, and it felt like I was being punished for it. Finally, at 17 weeks, I started to feel like a person again, and the negativity that had clouded my heart and mind for nearly three months started to lift.

My mom's famous recliner for the invalid,
emotionally sick, pregnant, or otherwise ailing

I know that I can’t fully comprehend the reality of living with a chronic illness, but I feel like I have a better ability to empathize with that trial after this experience. Just in the last week, I have finally been able to wake up earlier and read and study my scriptures and conference talks. Tyler and I have had meaningful conversations, and Will and I have made it to the park and on walks and to the store and to football games without me feeling like a dementor was sucking the life out of me. I’m grateful that I’ve reached the light at the end of the tunnel, and I hope it keeps shining. I feel the baby move every day now, and even when I start to feel sick again, that reassures me.

As I think back over the last three months, I know that I wasn’t a horrible mom. I know that I wasn’t my best, but I did spend a lot of time lying on the couch, but with that came many snuggles with my sweet son and lots of reading time with his favorite books. Even though I couldn’t see my spiritual growth, I was sustained in my calling. I was able to play the piano at church each week and be prepared for our primary program even though I didn’t have the capacity to practice. There were miracles all around me that I am just now seeing, and I am so grateful to have open eyes.

I know that I can be better, but I also know that my effort wasn’t ever wasted. And even my desire to be a better mom was noticed by the Savior, and through the power of the atonement, I was able to nurture and help my son enough. I also know that even though there are other trials that are much harder than mine, that does not minimize my own experience and the challenges I have faced in the last few months. I am so grateful for my life and especially for my health, which I have previously taken for granted over and over again. I have a beautiful life, and I am so excited to have another little human joining our family in March. I know I will be supported and lifted in that endeavor just as I have through this trial.

Finally venturing outside, and look at Will's joy (and my exhaustion)