I have a confession to make…I have a big ol’ fear of failure. It took me so long to start this blog because I thought, what if I don’t keep up with it? What if no one reads it? What if I’m terrible at it?!?! OH MY GOSH MY LIFE IS OVER! (My inner monologue is more dramatic than I let on) But I needed something as a creative outlet, so here I am, blogging.
You may not have noticed in February I hardly posted anything. Therefore I was already failing at my initial goals to post weekly and so my readers are going to think I abandoned them. But I didn’t y’all! I’m still here, and I had an emotional journey that led me to write this post.
Let me back up. I have a new found respect for those of you who must function while in constant discomfort. Whether you are living with depression, fibromyalgia, or what have you, you can’t always call off work because you have a bad day. You have to suck it up, and show up.
The week after I launched my blog I found out that we were expecting. What can I say, fertility runs in the family, I have 5 siblings, my husband has 4. Like all of our pregnancies we were excited. Then that cussing first trimester nonsense reared it’s ugly head. I used to tell people, I have the easiest pregnancies I’ve ever heard of. No medical complications, no vomiting, a little nausea on occasion easily cured by a granola bar or a banana. No head aches, no heart burn, no food aversion, no Braxton hicks, swelling and sleeplessness only the last month, I didn’t miss a beat, don’t be jealous.
This time, I was knocked off my feet. I had every early pregnancy symptom out there. Everything smelled terrible, I was tired and didn’t want to do anything. ME! Not wanting to do anything. And most tragically of all, I didn’t want to cook or…eat. *Sharp inhale* I know! I stopped leaving the house if I could help it. Exasperated, my 5 year old asked me “Mommy, why don’t we do anything any more?” Broke my heart! I wanted to feel normal again, feel like me again. At 12 weeks the first trimester haze began to lift, and I again saw the light of my to do list. I still have days that knock the wind out of me, but I’m better than I was a month ago.
The blog took a back seat because the little energy I had went to keeping my kids alive. I have a heap of recipes I want to share, and 3 HUGE culinary school books I want to dive into, but freaking life was all “Hahaha, you have plans. Hahahaha. I don’t care.”
I haven’t been without help. My lovely father-in-law takes Everett to school in the mornings so I don’t have to try to get 3 kids ready by 8:30 am, and the few people who knew have reached out and helped as they could, and my own saintly mother is planning to visit and help when Matthew’s business gets CRAZY busy. Oh, and if you’re asking where my husband is in all of this, trust me, he’s there doing his part while trying to run a business that keeps (take out) food on the table.
I know eventually this will end, but to those of you who have to live in discomfort because of a chronic illness, I have tasted but a bit of what you may have to deal with. You’re amazing, and awesome, and brave, and I am grateful that I can have greater empathy with those who move as fast as they can, and do as much as they can, and manage to have happy families for whom they sacrifice more than the rest of us out of sheer necessity. I don’t send this out to patronize anyone, or say I’m suddenly an expert, but just to recognize you as the amazing person you are, because I personally know some of you, and you are an inspiration.
I did say earlier this year I want to slow down, and here I am, forced to slow down (careful what you wish for). I can’t promise posts and recipes and culinary lessons as often as I wanted, but I’m not going to quit. I will push forward as fast as my growing belly will let me.