So, I have come to the conclusion that I have been going at this all wrong.

Yesterday I took my nausea meds all day, and consequently, my kids had no mother, only a snoring, barfing lump on the couch, (yes, I was sick anyway, so what’s the point?) and I had odd all-day dreams about being underwater and following a mama whale as she gave birth. Strange.

My kids are a mess after so many days (weeks, months…) with me completely out of it, and it is really starting to show in their behavior. Poor Jeffrey is so angry, yet he tries really hard to please by doing little things, and Eric just follows Jeff’s example. My husband is a basket case, stressed and tired from his new, much-more-pressure management job, and then he comes home to strung out kids, a comatose whale on the couch (that’s me!) and all the household chores I cannot do. Happy home life? Uh, yeah. Not so much these days.

After everyone was in bed last night, I got up, put the DH’s coat on, and went out in the backyard and had myself a really good, long, messy cry. These were not tears that I needed DFM to comfort me over- these were angry, sad, painful tears, frustration and fear for my family tears, and terrible guilt over my neglected children tears. I’m so worried about my boys, and how all this is effecting them. Of course they will survive, so will my bedraggled husband, but the stress of having a mama out of commission is tearing the fabric of our family apart.

After the tears ran out, I came back inside, cold and tired, made myself a cup of hot honey tea, and sat in the quiet dark, trying to figure out what to do. The only easy answer, and one we had already discussed, was that this is our last child. I refuse to subject my family or my body to this again. I am done. That makes me feel better, because now I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I also decided that my kids need ME more than I need not to barf. So the nausea meds are all down the comode. Being sick more, but still being their mama, is better than being the beached, comatose whale on the couch I have been. Same thing with the chores around the house- I may barf in my bowl while I do the dishes or cook dinner, but oh well. Taking things slow and stopping when I am tired, I know I can do more than I have been doing. Oh, I don’t plan on lifting anything heavy or tripping early labor, but I am through neglecting my kids and family because I am sick. Frankly, I have just had enough.

So, eight or nine weeks to go. Even if I still continue to barf all day, everyday, so be it. My family needs me, and my primary responsibility is to them. My spirit cannot take leaving them to their own devices any longer. I am done.