I've had mixed feelings about this post, but I finally concluded this morning that it might minister to someone else.
Morning sickness has a firm grasp on me everytime I am expecting. Yesterday several women at church asked me hopefully if I was almost done being sick, only to learn that no, I typically endure this until weeks 16 to 18. It is a long, long time to be ill.
There are several struggles here: one, the sickness itself, which must be constantly managed and even then can overwhelm me in the evenings. Then there are the hormones and Satan's attempts to use this time to bring me down. And it works, usually. I feel as if I am descending into a black hole.
But the other aspect of it is the responsibility I carry. My husband said to me last night, "If you had cancer, everyone would just expect you to be ill. They would allow you to be ill and not have any expectations of you." It's true. But with morning sickness, I am still expected to care for six children, provide meals, keep the house clean, keep the laundry running, plan for the school year.
When I was expecting our first and didn't know it, I kept thinking, "What's wrong with me? I'm not prone to depression, and yet I feel like I'm descending into hell." Last night I was there again, in the abyss, wanting to just leave earth and be with Jesus.
So have I succeeded in thoroughly depressing you? That was not my intent. I do so understand a few things now: the struggle of long-term illness (I've done this seven times now- that's almost two-and-a-half years of illness), depression, and even the desire to leave this world prematurely. Not being super compassionate by nature, I need these lessons. God's lessons aren't usually easy, but they're good. They make us more like Him.