The depths of darkness during the first trimester of pregnancy may seem like the typical woes of a hormonal pregnant woman, but I can assure you, they are truly a thing to survive.  With a growing level of energy and less time spent hugging the porcelain throne, my brain is beginning to be unfogged and it feels so dramatically different.  A to-do list with actual check marks next to it brings me to tears; A wholesome meal made, a project finished, grocery shopping complete, these tasks, simple as they are, had gone undone since Thanksgiving.  We have been surviving on boxed cereal and  watching “all about airplanes” on repeat.  For a time, I could only eat snow.  I am serious.   I was so thirsty, but any liquid would immediately make me queasy, putting my efforts to shame.  I felt grateful for the cold air in my lungs and the fluffy ice on my tounge, but the guilt of being a less, so much less, than stellar mom and wife made me feel like I was drowning in shame.  The first trimester lasts so long, or so it seems, I forgot I was ever anything else.

Did I always sleep on the couch until noon while refereeing my children with my eyes closed?  Did it ever bother me that my fridge contained only two old bottles of vinegary kombucha and some squishy old beets?  Was it ever something that struck me as odd that my children had become completely self-sufficient at the young ages of 2 and 4?  Had I really once written on this very blog before the sun came up with a cup of murky brown liquid in a steaming mug, that even the smell of now makes my stomach turn?  Was there really a time I could knit without feeling like I was riding on a ship through the bermuda triangle?  These were things I asked myself constantly.

Surely, I am exaggerating just a bit as I come out of my 8 week stint of vomiting.  But, the truth is, these early days of pregnancy are hard.  Not only are you surrounded by statistics and friends and actual experiences of loss making you worry around the clock, but every step of every day, and for some of us night, you are followed by a dizzying nausea and an impossible exhaustion.  Of course some of the mama’s I know felt nothing.  And for them I am so glad, motherhood is hard enough.  And of course, it is all together possible that I am a wuss.  This is highly likely in fact.

Regardless, yesterday I made a nice long list of things to do, and lo and behold I checked them all off.  New batch of kombucha begun, almond milk soaking, bread baked, knitting complete, and I even picked up a few things (not many, I was exhausted after all that).  A renewed sense of life.  After each of these first trimesters, I have promised myself, I would never ever take feeling good for granted again.  It is a gift to wake up and feel like smiling.

Can I also add that my boys played with those jars for 1.5 hours, while I busied myself in the kitchen.  They were pretending tiny red potatos were bad knights and capturing them in the dugeon. Why, oh why, oh why, do we bother with toys?