For the past few weeks I have been sick. I guess you could say it's a good sick. Every time I run to the bathroom I remind myself of the little life that is growing inside of me. The life that we prayed for. The one I said I wanted even if it meant being sick, then getting fat, then actually going through labor and delivery all over again. I have to keep reminding myself of that now when my heart starts to complain about the constant trips to the bathroom and the way I can't seem to get my eyelids to open all the way.
The boys are as excited as boys get about this kind of thing. Peter is very excited about my belly getting bigger. He looked over at me while we were sitting in church and said, "Mommy, your belly is just going to get fatter and fatter!" His eyes lit up at this thought and I'm a bit concerned that he is way too excited about my growing girth. Warren is determined that this is going to be a sister for him (as is everyone else around us). I keep reminding him and myself that we could end up having all boys even if we are blessed with 6 children.
We have kept up with most of our normal activities. I have pressed on in school. Sometimes I look around me at the disheveled state of the living room, the dishes still in the sink (something I try never to do!) and the general chaos to which the house has been subjected to. I sigh....I suppose this is just a stage. Hopefully soon I will be over the worst part of it all and possibly have some small amount of energy return. Maybe then I can keep up with things better. We'll see.
For now I just drink as much ginger ale and sparking water as I can. Try to grab tiny bites here and there with the hopes that they will stay down and keep reminding myself to praise God for answered prayers!
