Today feels like night and day compared to this weekend. I am beginning to have this strange feeling called optimism for the first time in a long time. It is increasingly more clear to me that I was not overexaggerating my symptoms from the last antibiotics at all. I had more than severe side effects; it was a bad reaction to them altogether. Only one day into the new antibiotics, and I’m already mostly healed from the bad ones as well as the infection.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t feel perfect today. I still have come-and-go mild nausea and am extremely weak, but I feel like I’m finally on the road to recovery. Considering it’s recovery from the morning sickness as well, that has been going on since I was six weeks pregnant, it’s about time. I just hope I’m not so eager to hope that I’ll end up disappointed if the morning sickness doesn’t go away altogether right away.
I expect by the time these antibiotics have run their course–early this coming weekend–I’ll feel mostly normal most of the time. Naturally, M’s parents are coming to hang out next week. I would have loved the help when I was at my sickest, but it is certainly for the best. If they see me being a good mom to PJ, without the excuse of morning sickness, etc, they will have no argument about taking him home with them. They’ll probably still criticize every parenting move we make, but I’ve come to expect that. At least they’ll see us parenting.
With all the drama from the last few days, it feels like I’ve completely forgotten what it means to be pregnant. I managed to forget that this fat belly is housing a new little being, my own son or daughter. Feeling the baby last night–or even just thinking I might have–was a great reminder why I’m going through all this. There’s a tiny, fragile life inside me that needs protecting, and if that means feeling like death for a few weeks, isn’t it worth it? It’s crazy how one tiny nudge (or gas bubble) can give me a complete reality check.