I really hoped this time around would be different. I guess I had heard vague comments (or thought I had) that subsequent pregnancies were easier than the first. I also hoped that “being prepared” for what was coming, that would somehow dilute the symptoms. I was wrong. (First time ever).

The first time the nausea hit we were leaving for DC (terrible timing). But I thought, ‘this is manageable.’ It was uncomfortable but not remotely as bad as I remembered and it didn’t last too long into the day. That was the week I stopped drinking coffee because it was no longer appetizing.

I think it was the week after we returned from DC that the real nausea hit. This was more of what I remembered from my pregnancy with Monica. The all-consuming, crippling feeling of ‘I’m about to throw up’ 24/7. And that Tuesday night, I did. Not once, not twice, but six times.

This was strange as in the past it never occurred so many times in a row. Secondly, there was no feeling of temporary relief as there had been before. In fact, I felt worse. I couldn’t ever remember feeling so badly. So we went to the ER. I thought something must be wrong, this wasn’t normal.

It was around midnight. We roused a sleeping Monica from her crib and drove to the hospital on the island. It was a long process to be seen—apparently they were short-staffed. But eventually I got an IV and then Zofran in the IV (this was instant relief). They ran different tests and we waited in the hospital room for five hours. At first Monica was her normal chipper self. By the end, she was exhausted but unwilling to fall asleep and we were all quite miserable.

As it turns out, there was nothing wrong. All the tests came back normal. It was just ‘morning sickness’. They gave me a few more tablets of Zofran and told me I was to go to my OB no more than 72 hours after the hospital visit.

I wasn’t able to meet with my OB as they had retired and their partner had quit. The new practice I was starting with told me they could not possibly see me until the end of January. As we were about to leave town for Christmas vacation, I was desperate for more meds. I didn’t want to have to return to the ER and I certainly did not want this episode to repeat itself on our long car trip to Charleston, North Carolina, and Maryland.

After asking friends and, of course, online research, I found a telehealth company that would meet with pregnant women (we can be persona non-grata because of increased liability). I paid the $80 dollars to meet with a physician and they prescribed me a medicine called Diclegis which was supposed to be safer than Zofran but serve the same purpose of curbing nausea/vomiting.

It took about a week for me to start feeling the effects. Unfortunately, this medication is crazy expensive and for some reason our insurance did not cover it. But honestly, I would have given my left arm for any relief at that point.

It did help. The nausea lessened somewhat and I definitely threw up a lot less frequently. I still felt bad but it was an improvement.

I think with pregnancy, both this time and last, it has really surprised me how difficult it is. I know not every woman has the same symptoms as I have or to the same degree, but I’m not sure any woman would describe pregnancy as ‘easy.’

When you think about the creative process in general, there is almost always some degree of difficulty or resistance—even if it’s just battling our own complacency. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying a new recipe, writing a book, designing a website…any type of creation takes effort. With that in mind, it makes sense that the ultimate type of creation that a person is capable of—another human being—would include such a steep level of difficulty and sacrifice. After all, childbirth was the leading cause of death for women for hundreds of years.

But I think the reason the hardship caught me so off guard is that I really hadn’t heard women talk about how hard it is. Pregnant women run marathons, go to their 9-5 jobs, take care of their other kids, run a successful ministry or do any other number of already difficult things all the time.

This shocks me as I honestly have been barely making it for the past 2.5 months. Housework, work work, exercise (lol), and just normal day-to-day activities and obligations have fallen by the wayside big time. Even things like getting dressed, putting on makeup, or going to the grocery store feel herculean these days. Simply opening the fridge (which makes me gag most of the time), is something I have to amp myself up for.

I can hardly believe that it is 2023 and there is no definitive fix for this. Even the attitude that most people seem to have, as one of the doctors said: “it’s just part of it!”, surprises me.

I think when it comes to severe PMS, period cramps, pregnancy symptoms, and menopause, we have culturally become very accustomed to women suffering. There are some half-hearted efforts to help by throwing us the pill which comes with its own herd of side-effects and risks. Of course, the pill doesn’t actually solve anything—it merely masks the symptoms. Other than that, it seems the general response from the medical community is an unapologetic ‘oh well.’

I have found this season to be demoralizing. A normal flu or stomach bug usually doesn’t stick around for longer than a week or two. But weeks of feeling so badly on end is extremely rare and outside of pregnancy never considered ‘normal’. If you woke up one morning and threw up, you would not be expected to go to work that day. But when pregnant, it seems that even if you are getting sick multiple times a day, life should continue as usual.

While I would never underestimate a woman’s strength (we clearly can and have dealt with this), it strikes me as counterproductive to have an unconcerned attitude toward the difficulties we experience during this season. And you could say, ‘you don’t have to have kids,’ and that is certainly true. But if we all adopted this mentality, the human race would go extinct which I think is probably not ideal either. Furthermore, it would not address the other challenges women face which I mentioned above.

Since I am part of a Catholic, pro-life community, I think it is especially important for us to minister to women who are going through this challenging time. If we are going to call ourselves pro-life and pro-woman, then we should definitely be pro-helping women who are giving themselves up for this endeavor.

I know that if it weren’t for the help and support of a few friends, my parents, and, of course, my husband, I would not be able to carry out this huge task.

If I had millions of dollars, I would funnel them toward finding an elixir that would make women feel incredible during pregnancy. I have found all of the ‘tips and tricks’ that I heard or read about largely unhelpful so far. The most affirming thing I heard during this time wasn’t ‘but it’s so worth it!’ (obviously it is or otherwise I wouldn’t be doing it!), but rather: ‘what you’re doing is hard.’

My mom, who had extreme morning sickness the entirety of her pregnancies, told me this and it is what has stuck with me the most. Yes, the creative act of making another person is hard. There’s just no way around it. So the pressure to continue life as normal can be extinguished. I’m not going to be able to cook, my house will likely be in a state of disarray, and if you show up at my house at 2PM, I may very well still be in pajamas. (At least until I start feeling better). I will certainly rely on others a great deal to help me day-to-day. But that’s ok, because I’m actually doing a lot. And this season is temporary.

While this may sound like a very long pity party, the point I’m trying to make isn’t that I or any other woman is somehow a victim. Rather that it makes sense how historically chivalry and reverence toward women has been a cornerstone of society. (As much as many men have also failed at this catastrophically).

Women are due reverence, regardless of whether or not they have children, but especially because they have the unique and undeniably arduous responsibility of bringing life into the world. And while suburban life and the Western ideal of the self-made man has largely encouraged us to navigate any difficulty alone, we do a great disservice to women and society if we don’t support and assist those who are partaking in the ultimate creative act.

I understand that suffering can be fruitful, and that it is through trials that we often grow. However, I think the same way we strive to minimize suffering of any friend or loved one going through something difficult, it is essential that we do the same for those of us who are carrying out something that is so helpful and important to society at large.

At week 17, I am hopeful that the worst of the nausea is behind me and that I will begin feeling a little more normal here soon. I can’t help but feel for those who experience this the entirety of their pregnancies—I can’t imagine. Bringing life into the world is a big deal. The pictures of big families with 7 smiling little ones can be adorably deceiving. I know that didn’t come about without colossal sacrifice and suffering. The ability to have children is, without a doubt, the greatest gift—but one that requires our own total self-gift. And not something that should be taken lightly.

I am incredibly humbled and grateful for the help I have received over the past several weeks. I hope I have the opportunity to help someone else in the same way, because I know what I’m doing is so important, so good, and so hard.

Here’s to the cost of creation.