Things have changed

I'm sitting here at the cabin where I usually watch the sunset and drink lemonade while reading or visiting with my family. I have so many carefree memories of the lake where I can unwind, get plenty of rest and play all day. Instead I'm listening to my Renne scream for three hours desperately  trying to get her to sleep. I'm not talking "crying" screaming, I'm talking full throttle high pitched, ear piercing, glass shattering screaming. I'm laying here totally helpless, out of  strength and ideas and feeling like a failure as all I can do is try to lie still because if I move too much I'll make myself sick and have to throw up. Tonight is a bad pregnant sick night but is one of many that are some of my biggest battles. I can't decide if I'm starving or if my stomach is so sick that eating food will make me vomit. I'm exhausted from the last two nights of Renne waking up in the middle of the night and then way too early in the morning that I have to just sit on our bed and think of creative ways to keep her entertained until everyone else wakes up. I look like a total mess, I need to shower and am on the verge of breakdown. I shamefully ask Tim to please help me pick her up as I feel too fatigued to do so.

I think it's safe to say that things have definitely changed...

Vacations aren't exactly what they used to be. To say the least.

I write this not to have a pity party or to remember the bad times, but sometimes things get so tough that I feel completely defeated. I have no idea what to do in these moments and I'm not a fan of the "unsolved equation". I try to think of why we are forcing Renne to sleep in this insanely cramped space, when I start to remember all of the funny things she did today. She splashed away in her little baby pool and jabbered on and on at us about the fun she was having. She clapped for the dog when she fetched a stick from the water with the biggest smile on her face while shouting "Daw Daw!" She got to ride on a surf board with my sister and thought she had died and gone to heaven and she giggled while we played peek-a-boo with a towel. And we got to watch. I got to see her explore a new place with the most lovable innocence and genuine curiosity. I got to see her experience this place for the first time. That's why we are here. I remember now. It's easy to forget. And I just have her. What happens when the next one comes? And the next? Am I just not cut out for this?!

Tim tells me he's going to take her for a drive. We are at the last resort. It's so late now, we all need to sleep. I cry as he leaves not because I am sad but because I am hormonal, and his patience overwhelms me.  I am so grateful for him. I joke with him that I would be dead if I had to be pregnant and alone . Without him. My rock. Thanks doesn't really cut it, but thank you times infinity Tim. Try to remember the energetic, put together, normal person I usually am. Not this. If I had it my way, I'd be put in a cocoon and sleep for nine months until the baby came. No one would see me, time would freeze and I could just skip this. That sounds like heaven right now. I hate myself for thinking that. This isn't me. Who is this person?

Thank goodness  "tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it." That's one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite movies.  I know once I get some sleep I'll feel miraculous and new again. Plus, I'm already day dreaming about the pancakes I get to eat tomorrow....

Tim returns from the ride with a zonked baby. I love him so much in this moment,  it hurts. I hug him tight and all I can say is "you save me". We lay down and life is finally still.