In the last couple of weeks I have had numerous conversations about pregnancy (not really sure why, but I have). And most of the ladies I talked to pretty much hated being pregnant. I absolutely loved it. I loved every minute of it, even the eight weeks of morning all day sickness. The sickness that you feel the need to vomit every five minutes, but can't quite make yourself do it. I will fight the urge to vomit all day long. My husband is the opposite, he practically coughs hard enough and he can vomit. Not this sister. I remember as bizarre as it was, some of the only times I threw up were when my mom cooked. I LOVE my mom's cooking, but apparently my growing fetus didn't. It became an ongoing joke around my parent's house. Once I got over being all day sick, it was smooth sailing. I slept a lot, I ate a lot, I researched a lot. I loved being able to eat whatever/whenever and not care how much weight I gained or where that food attached itself to. I am one of those people who could stay in my bed all day, so evening naps and sleeping in late was my cup of tea. I was constantly researching everything I possibly could about my baby. I knew what size of fruit/vegetable he was for every week. I have an amazingly sweet friend, Allison (super baker/cook), who made me something every week based upon what fruit/vegetable baby E was that week. I've long forgotten about all of the aches and pains and frequent urges to urinate. All of that is a distant memory. (Kindof like me saying I was going to wait a long time to have another kid, IF ANY.) I can definitely see myself now having another kid in a couple of years. I can endure three months of boot camp again. But I want to let E have his baby time and have time to spoil him and give him all of my attention.
The part of pregnancy that I loved the most, was when little peanut E would move and punch and kick in my belly. There is something so magical about having a baby grow inside of you. How can this six pound baby come from one egg and one sperm? It's one of the many reasons I know there is a God. A loving, caring God. A God that granted me the blessing of having E.
Every good and perfect gift is from above
James 1:17
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