It is after midnight. I am sitting in my dark bedroom, eating an unhealthy amount of salty pretzels in my desperate attempt to not be sick, probably spilling crumbs all over my sleeping husband.
And I’m marveling at the crazy shit we women willingly put ourselves through in order to bring forth new life.
I’m not a woman who enjoys pregnancy. Some women are. And I think they’re fucking weird.
Kidding, they’re probably stronger than me. Or more disciplined in gratitude. I don’t know.
What I do know is I’ve always had a weak stomach. I’m grossed out easily and I carry all of my nervous energy right there in my solar plexus. So naturally, I’m one of the lucky few who experiences morning sickness all day and night and usually well past the first trimester.
It is disgusting. I develop all these bizarre taste aversions. Like, for example, I can’t eat soup right now because I saw this episode of Criminal Minds one time where this psycho killer did something creepy to the food at the restaurant he worked in and one lady there happened to be eating soup.
I won’t continue to confuse and/or bore you with details of my suffering but, suffice it to say that despite knowing how much it’s going to suck the entire time, here I am, growing baby number three like the martyr I never want to be.
And when that baby gets here,
After any number of minutes of me screaming and writhing and cursing in a hospital bed,
After these days spent hugging the toilet and staring blankly in the mirror, reminding myself that I used to like putting on makeup,
After navigating these wild hormones that inspire rages and unprovoked crying,
After growing out of all of my clothes and agonizing over our insurance deductible and trying to figure out how we’re going to fit another human in our already cramped home,
After all this, I will hold that new life in my arms and my world will shatter and shift. It will transform in exponentially beautiful ways. Our family will grow and so will our capacity for love.
Also, it already has.
Because love is infinite.
And motherhood is that kind of magic.