It’s really quiet. I can hear the house shaking when the wind hits the side of the window. I’ve been laying here trying to sleep for about an hour now, but the nausea is taking over and soon I fear I will lose control. Im trying to talk my body into getting better and thinking happy thoughts, but I don’t think it’s working. The bottle of medicine on my night stand is almost empty and I don’t think I have the courage to ask my husband for more money to refill the prescription. I’ve been out of work due to my pregnancy for about four months now and it’s getting harder to look into his eyes and ask for anymore. He is working so hard while I just lay here. What is wrong with me? Why can’t my body do what it’s naturally supposed to do: make a baby.
I’ve read a ton of articles on what a normal pregnancy feels like, and I keep praying maybe my body will catch the hint or my prayers will be heard but I’ve had no such luck. Sometimes I wonder if anyone is listening. I can see it in my families facial expression when they see me walking out of the bathroom after another episode. They’re scared and when I see this, it starts to make me terrified. Sometimes Manuel has to lift me off the floor because I’m too weak to do it myself. It’s hard. Losing control of your strength. Not being able to physically pick your body up. Seeing stars after each episode. Oh, and the blood, that’s the worst. The taste of the irony liquid continuously tearing up your throat. It’s kind of something you’d see in a movie.
I met him when I was 16. I was sort of lost and kind of a hot mess, but he reached out to me and when I talked to him my life seemed to have a sunshine raying through. You know it’s the real deal when you get butterflies in your stomach even at the mention of their name. I got those with Manuel and when he smiled at me I was so shy I would cover my face and turn in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t see my red cheeks. It was the kind of love you wouldn’t think would last. 16 years old, dumb & wanting things to last. 6 months later there was a baby growing inside of me.
We have been through this twice now, so you’d think we would have gotten used to it a little? No. The same look on his face as he dragged my body off the floor. The same look as he rushed me to the hospital, even after working his 12 hour shift at work. The same look on his face as he told me he loved me. I spent countless nights wishing I could change for him and us, but this was the plan and it wasn’t changing. I needed to realize that this was our path and I wasn’t alone.
When we found out I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum with our second pregnancy, he didn’t cringe like I thought he would. He looked at me and held my hand with that everlasting smile on his face assuring me that he had me and everything would be okay. This outlook on my illness truly saved me. If he were to break down and be fearful, who knows how I would have gotten through!
What did I need? This was a question he often asked. What can he do to make things better? If not for my health than for my mind. If not for my mind than for my heart. Things were getting worse but he remained calm. I remember looking at him and wondering how he held it all together so well. I wish I were as strong as him. I couldn’t imagine if the roles were reversed. Seeing him sick and in pain and not able to save him. These thoughts make my mind race. All of this time people have been thinking that I am the strong one.
Loving you is easy. You kept me up even when I was falling (literally). Thank you for being my rock when I felt like the world was caving in. You are my forever and I love you the most my Manolo.