I wonder how I forgot about how awful it all was.
I always forget about morning sickness. During my first pregnancy, I could barely make a sentence without throwing up on someone. Gradually that passed, and those memories were blotted out, along with the trivialities that went along with being the size of a beached whale.
The second time, it seemed better, but since we were in the middle of moving, I was distracted. I was placed on bedrest after that, so that experience involved a lot of trying not to be annoyed at the prospect of staying still—while desperately trying to make sure that the baby stayed in my belly.
These days, whenever I have a bout of nausea, I am reminded about how wonderful morning sickness was—and also, how sporadic. I also wonder how I forgot about how awful it all was, although with two children to take care of, it does sort of get brushed under the rug. That aside, I try to see it as confirmation of life, of a healthy baby, and that makes it easier. During these times, I remember that it really is an amazing gift and blessing to be able to give birth, to make life. And I will continue to try to remember that as I run to the washroom for the second time this morning—that life is beautiful, that it is a privilege and worth almost any sort of trouble.