Today began much like every other. That is, like every other day since Day 1. Tired and nauseous.
No, I’m not nauseous, despite the idea that I might somehow experience this through “sympathy pains” (like my father-in-law did). No, this is all about my wife. It’s tough. Tougher than I could have imagined. There is a degree of helplessness about it for me, since there is literally nothing I can do except work to make her as comfortable as possible. Unfortunately, this is sort of like mission: impossible.
Wifey, relative to my threshold for pain, is a tough lady. She’s the kind of gal who resists the urge to pop a pill to relieve an ache or pain. Which is good, I suppose, since the less foreign stuff in her system right now the better. But it’s affecting her sleep, which is unfortunate for both of us. Less energy equals less patience, less patience equals more sensitivity, more sensitivity results in less physical contact, and that isn’t good for anybody.
I am more in love with my wife than in any moment prior to her getting pregnant. Ironically, most of the time she desires my physical proximity to be no less than one foot. (And God help me if I put on my favorite Old Spice deodorant. Might as well sleep outside.) To the list of things contributing to my “smell” (the word has a negative connotation now that it did not before): anything I might choose to put in my mouth (alcohol is a big no-no), shampoo, and light exercise (e.g., walking).
We have temporarily solved the deodorant problem through my using a stick of hers (Mitchum), which doesn’t seem to have a discernible scent. I think twice before going in for a kiss. And I’ve been showering in the evening, which seems to have cut back on sentiments about the smell of our bed.
It has become clear that I took many things for granted: being able to wrap my arms around her at night, stealing a kiss, and even simple hugs. All must be done with great care, and sometimes not at all.
—
But there are also moments of joy and peace. This evening she picked me up from work, and announced, “I need to eat now.” This is always fun for me because it implies (a) eating out, and (b), instant gratification.
“Where do you want to go,” I ask. “Well, I can just eat an apple when we get home.” This is a healthy idea, but an uncommon option.
Ten seconds later: “No, I need to eat right now.”
“Panera?”
“No. Let’s go to Chipotle.” Even better. We arrive at Chipotle. “Well, what I really want is Pad Thai.” Well, why didn’t you say so? I didn’t ask. “It’ll take too long.”
“Let me drive,” I say.
We go to Winchester Thai. They have good Pad Thai – the only acceptable Pad Thai in Winchester. I order before the waitress has a chance to give us the menus.
We shared a single order: Chicken and Shrimp. We fought over noodles. I ate most of the shrimp, she the chicken.
Oh, the look of satisfaction. She’s not hungry. She doesn’t feel naseuous. She feels good. Normal. And for a brief moment she glimpses the future and the past: times without the misery of morning sickness. Those times will soon come again.