"I know you're hungry and thirsty, but you're afraid."

Over the past few months I've tried to do posts highlighting the good times we've had this summer. We've gone to Seven Peaks, enjoyed birthday celebrations, watched movies, spent time with friends, etc. Hopefully there won't be many of the post I'm about to write, but I think it's sometimes it's necessary to share the bad times. The hard times. The times of fear. Because everyone has those times, but often they don't want to talk about them.

As you could tell from our trailer, we're excited to welcome Baby Hiatt to the family. But the summer has not been easy because of it.

I've been sick. Extremely sick. Nausea, exhaustion, and migraines have been constant companions. Even though I was on medication, it only worked about half of the time. I'd have a few good days each week, and a few nasty ones.

I'm glad to live close to my parent's house, so that when I got sick at work (in SLC) I could drive to their home instead of trying to survive for an hour going back down to Provo. This has lead to some interesting encounters with my mom, as she would come home to find me somewhere on the floor, like in this picture:

Not staged. She actually took a picture when she found me before coaxing me off the floor.

As miserable as it was to spend a few hours by the toilet or a trash can vomiting, nothing was worse than the times I had to go to the doctor/hospital for an IV:

Blue thing on the left is a barf bag, blue thing on the right is a heating pad covering the IV.

I personally hate needles, and am slighlty traumatized every time I get my blood drawn, but on this day I could have cared less. I would have let them do an IV with both arms and a leg if it would have helped.

Addressing the title of this post, my husband said it to me this week when I was having another rough day. I had thrown up in the morning, but by the afternoon my stomach was growling. It's hard for me to know when I can actually keep food down sometimes, and I always have the fear that I will eat or drink only to throw it all up again (as has happened many times before). Even things that are supposedly easy to digest, like water.

The first trimester was one of my greatest trials, and while the time period is over, the symptoms are not. I still get sick. I still miss work. I still don't have the energy I wish I had. And I'm still afraid. I'm afraid of more pain. I'm afraid that all my plans will be ruined, because of something I can't control. I'm afraid that it will never end. But I try to remember that every day is a friend, and in the end, I'll get a sweet baby boy.

Rhetorically,
Rebekah