Nothing has ever knocked me on my butt harder than pregnancy.
I love physical challenges, but there’s a big difference between doing hard things when you feel good versus when you feel bad.
Pregnancy waylaid me hard and quick. Nothing had ever been so out of my control—or Charlie’s, who, God bless him, assumed double the responsibilities as he cared for me, our kitties, our household, and our business.
Only weeks in, I was hit with severe nausea and vomiting that kept me couch-confined. Day after day, I was careful not to move my head. I couldn’t look at screens, and it was even difficult to read a paper book. I lost my appetite. I lost weight. And I was severely dehydrated and in ketosis. Nausea and vomiting continued throughout my pregnancy.
For the first time in my adult life, someone had to tell me to go exercise. My midwives encouraged me to walk and perform bodyweight exercises, but most days, it was all I could do to take a few steps around my house. Every time I felt the slightest rise in stamina, something quickly knocked me down.
I caught a cold twice, and the second time, I coughed so hard I strained my intercostal muscles, stiffening everything in my midsection. Every breath felt like a knife stab. I had to sleep at 90 degrees and couldn't walk for two days.
Third trimester, I developed pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel, which is straight from the pit of Hell—I’m not even joking.
The pain in my hands was almost unbearable. Imagine numbness, tingling, burning, stinging, static, electrical-like shocks, bug-biting, snapping, and swelling. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t type. I could hardly hold a fork to eat or a pen to write. I couldn’t even touch hot water without it exacerbating my symptoms.
My midwife, who had cared for thousands of expectant mothers, said mine was the worst case she’d ever seen.
I went to physical therapy, wore splints and pain patches, used essential oils, and took homeopathic nerve solutions. But I never found relief because the weight of my growing belly kept throwing out the nerve roots connected to my hands. I could only sob myself to sleep for a few hours before the pain returned.
Not only could I not use my hands and abs to get out of bed, but I also developed severe nerve pain and numbness in my knees and heels. My only leverage was my elbows. Maybe I’ll find humor in my roly-poly turtle-ness someday, but I’m not quite there yet because I’m still dealing with some symptoms.
Pregnancy symptoms are weird.
Normally, I ate as much as my 6’5” husband. But my severe loss of appetite put my whole family in a scramble to find foods my body and extremely sensitive teeth could tolerate. People asked about my cravings, and I'd say, “I’m just trying to find something to eat!” Sitting in the sunshine made me nauseous. Water even evoked nausea, and I couldn’t shower without feeling sick.
I wondered if pregnancy would’ve felt easier if I had been unhealthy beforehand. If I were used to feeling like crap, maybe it wouldn’t have been such an extreme shock.
I tried to make sense of why I was so sick. Others did, too. “It’s harder when we’re older,” some said. But I knew of 20 and 30-year-olds who experienced similar pregnancies. Despite what the medical system says, a mother’s age is not necessarily the reason for sickness during pregnancy.
I tried to stay quiet about it all. I didn't want to sound like a whiner. And because while women can be each other’s best support, they can also be each other’s harshest critics. I didn't want others projecting their experiences onto me, but sometimes, I didn't even have to say anything for that to happen.
When I told some women how I was feeling, many of them promptly cut me off to outdo my symptoms, and a few of them told me I’d forget about all of it once my child was born. It was no surprise that some women turned pregnancy into a game of one-upping. But I can assure you—because it’s my profession to know my body—I’ll never forget the most physically significant event of my life.
Other women chuckled, responding, “Yeah, but it’s so worth it,” which irritated me. I never questioned whether it was worth it. Bringing a precious life into this world was absolutely worth the pain. But the response bothered me because it seemed to disregard how I was feeling.
I knew I’d make it through, but many days, I doubted.
In my weakened state, I wanted others to listen, empathize, look for polite ways to relate, or just be quiet. I appreciated those who did. Knowing people prayed for me and hearing stories about women who had made it through similar pregnancies encouraged me more than anything.
Some women deal well with the unsolicited comments that accompany life’s major events, and maybe I would’ve if I’d felt better. But I’ve never felt so beat down, and any comment that contained the slightest negativity only made me want to hurl at the feet of whoever made it.
That’s one reason it was easier to isolate during pregnancy and one reason why it has taken me a while to write about what I went through. We hear so many negative birth stories that I hesitated to share mine. I wanted to work out and stay fit through pregnancy so I could encourage other girls, but as intensely as I prayed, I only recorded a handful of good days during my entire pregnancy. Battling through one hit after another, I entered labor exhausted.
The attack on my nervous system wasn’t only physical but spiritual. Even when I felt okay, the moment I opened my Bible or my mouth to pray, within seconds, I sprinted to the bathroom. I’d mentally put on my armor and power through, but it even happened when I prayed silently.
Satan did his darndest to distance me from God.
Most of the time, the only way I felt like I could survive the day was to keep my mind blank. But I’d touch my heart and think, God, forgive me. But I know You’re always here, even when I’m not thinking about You.
And He was. He never left. I knew this because of the effect on my time and mind.
Sitting in silence day after day took me to a place that was out of this world. During especially rough days, I’d look at the clock and think, It’s 4 o’clock already? I’m gonna make it through this day. And as many times as people asked me if I was ready to be done or said, “It must feel so long,” somehow, I never felt that way. Over 41 weeks of pregnancy, God protected my time. It never went too fast or slow.
I think He did this by protecting my mind because as badly as I felt, I was never depressed. Sure, I had moments when I felt sad and angry because my body hurt so badly. But the shield around my mind is something I can’t explain as anything other than His peace that surpasses understanding.
Although I didn’t read my Bible as much as I wanted during pregnancy, my faithfulness in reading it beforehand rooted God’s Word deep into my soul, bringing me through this time and leading me through what awaited.