A long time ago, punishments had to be given. Because God had been disobeyed, man had to toil by the sweat of his brow to grow food to eat, woman had to endure the pains of childbirth, and both had to die. God, in his infinite wisdom, understood that one day women would figure out the whole “epidural” thing… so he decided to up the punishment for both women and men and brought a little thing called “hormonal imbalance” into play during pregnancy. Both suffer. Lesson learned.
My wife’s first two pregnancies were a walk in the park. (At least from my vantage point, which really doesn’t count, does it?) She didn’t complain a whole lot about being uncomfortable and had a generally great attitude. I didn’t notice any wild mood swings and she had mild cravings that were controllable. (I believe with daughter #1 she craved pancakes and with daughter #2 she always wanted egg sandwiches. Funny, each child liked those foods exclusively as they grew up.) If there were two more perfect pregnancies, I haven’t heard of them.
I suppose with this pregnancy, crossing the 40-year-old line in the sand REALLY ticked off my wife’s body or something. It’s as if it was saying, “Hmmmm… let’s see… how can I torture them for letting this happen? Oh, I know… I’ll stir her hormones like a KitchenAide mixer on high and see how it messes with them!” At first, the cravings hit. I couldn’t get enough bacon and scrambled eggs into her mouth. Little Debbie Nutty Bars were purchased by the case.
Next came a heightened sense of smell. In all the time I’ve known my wife, she hasn’t been able to smell much of anything. When she was younger, she had surgery for a deviated septum, and it more or less destroyed her ability to experience the good and the bad that your olfactory sense has to offer. (It’s actually one of the reasons why we’ve been married so long. If she smelled half of the “lively” contributions I’ve brought to the table over the years, she would have left me with a clothespin firmly snapped on her nose.) Not now. Now, she could smell a spider belch from 3 miles away and tell you what it had for lunch. Just a couple of examples I’ve had to deal with include:
- For months we had planned to go out with some friends from church before going to a concert. They suggested O’Charlies for dinner, and she freaked out about it. I dug a little deeper after hearing about her reluctancy to go to O’Charlies multiple times and the reason she didn’t want to go is because she couldn’t stand the smell of fish. She saw O’Charlies commercials on TV that showed them serving fish and she was repulsed to even think about being somewhere where fish was being served. I asked her, “Have you ever been to O’Charlies?” She said, “Well, no…” I had to explain to her that O’Charlies is much like an Applebees, and then she was fine with it. (By-the-way… when we ate at O’Charlies, I sat across the table from her and had the salmon.)
- I’m no longer allowed to make Chorizo and Eggs for breakfast in my own home because she can’t stand the smell. One of my favorite things to eat for breakfast, and I have to wait until she’s out-of-town to fix it.
Mixed in for about 2 solid weeks among everything else, (and keep in mind that we’re not even past the first tri-mester yet) she has been the most irritable and crabby Dawn I have ever experienced in17 years of marriage. I correlate watching it happen much like pausing to watch a tornado pass by your trailer park neighborhood… you know you should be ducking for cover, but it’s just so amazing to see that you just stand there watching with your jaw dropped open. I feel pretty bad for her because she’s explained that she just feels frustrated all of the time. Even food is a hard thing to do, because the textures have changed on her in the past couple of weeks and the thought of most types of food repulse her. She has aches and pains all over. She’s tired a great majority of the time. She has to go to the bathroom a lot through the night, which reduces her sleep time considerably. This definitely isn’t the rosy pregnancy of days long since past. A throng of co-workers, family and friends lay broken and confused in the destructive path of this frustration storm, with only me to comfort them by saying enlightening things like, “It’s a great time to practice the concept of unconditional love, isn’t it?” They’ve taken it easy on her. They know that eventually the hormone potion that Dr. Jekyll took a swig of will wear off and Mrs. Hyde will go away. The hugs and smiles from this beautiful woman will return after she gets done riding the roller coaster.
To her credit, she has behaved very well over the past week or more. No crying, grown children. No crying, pregnant women. All is quiet and peaceful. Love has overcome. That, and a little inch-and-a-half long, wiggling, bundle of potential kicking her tummy hard enough to be felt has made itself known. A gentle reminder that all of this is so worth it. Stash is worth it.
And yes, she will most likely have an epidural. Of course I’ll have to just go back to my “field” and toil among the thorns and thistles with no relief. No relief except the all-fall from her cravings. I really like bacon, eggs, and Nutty Bars. 
