This morning I had a really bad dream.
I woke up to a throbbing forehead--a pulsating ache that extended to my temples when I moved my torso. My legs and feet accompanied the painful beat of my head with opposite-yet-equal torturous vibrations. Then, the reliable wave of good morning nausea hit like a tsunami of the corpus.
I groaned at Chup who was getting ready for work.
"What am I going to do?" I desperately asked him. "How am I going to get up and get going?"
Then I ran through a mental phone book of all the family I could call to help me. Blessedly, I've got a village of good people who have offered to help. And yet, I couldn't forge the humility it takes to make the call. It was like a tennis match in my mind, Call someone to help you! vs. You can do it, just get up and get going!
"Say a prayer." Was Chup's sincere answer to his lamenting wife.
"I am going to need more than a prayer." I complained.
But I said one anyway, wrapped up in the comforter, my head heavy head pushed against the pillows.
(A short prayer.)
After Chup left for work I got up and picked up The Chief. His pants smelled like sulfur, I could almost see green fumes chasing his diaper. This induced another wave of pukeness which had me at the bathroom sink for quite sometime.
In the middle of this episode, The Chief stood holding my leg. In between heaves he looked up at me with his bright, cheery face and sang. "Hiiii."
Then I knew my prayer was answered. Not because my headache disappeared. Not because I lost my queasiness. Not because a good person called offering to take The Chief to the zoo. And not because while I was throwing up an angel did not come down to forbid my son to not unroll the toilet paper down the hall around the den and back into the bathroom for good measure.
My answer came in remembering how adorable these charming-sometimes-stinky baby beings become. How they make impossible messes in one moment, and kiss you with wide open mouths the next. How they express emotion with such passion and dedication. How every horrible morning is worth their growing souls.
Now, if only I will remember all this at three o'clock today when the second wave of sickness comes to say, "Good Afternoon!"
p.s. I don't take medication for my pregnancy sickness. I tried with my last pregnancy (numerous remedies) and it was unsuccessful while making me successfully hopeless.
Besides, there is glory in the perseverance, no?