My husband and I found out I was pregnant very early on. After years of dating, countless moves, job changes, and a blissful honeymoon phase of marriage, we had finally purchased a house and started trying to expand our family. After the second month of trying, I bought a pregnancy test as early as I could– even before my missed period. When the test read “positive,” I felt an overwhelming sense of joy, excitement and terror.
Before I continue, I should tell you a little about myself. I’m a type A personality, who is an overachiever and people pleaser. I’m very motivated in my professional and personal life, and I don’t like to do things “half-way.” If this means staying hours late for work or putting in time on the weekends, no problem. Does someone need the perfect sweet treat to bring to work or a party? I’m your girl. Will I spend a little extra money to make sure I give a memorable gift at Christmas? Absolutely. And… lets not even get started on my house when I’m expecting company. (Please always schedule your visits to the Dahl House. We need at least two days for a deep clean… even if we just did one.)
Now, lets flash back to the morning I found out I was pregnant. Naturally, I knew I would do this the right way. One-hundred percent. No shortcuts. No cheating.
We had waiting six years, and we planned for this so I was ready to tackle this thing head on.
After I broke the news to my hubby, I bought “What to Expect When Your Expecting,” and “Pregnancy Tips: What NOT to Eat,” downloaded two apps and immediately started surfing the web for best meals and workouts for a healthy pregnancy.
In the weeks that followed, I quickly realized that experiencing the “perfect pregnancy” was going to be tough. The culprit? One word– nausea. From Week 6 to Week 16, I had morning sickness that lasted from sunrise to sunset. Even so, I continued my normal routine, only missing work a few days due to the unbearable urge to throw up. I continued to picked my meals as healthy as I could stomach, and even hit the gym for brisk walks as often as possible. It was tough, but the phrase, “This is not for me, this is for the baby,” is what kept me pushing.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t perfect. But I was doing the absolute best I could do, every day.
When I neared 18 weeks, and the nausea was subsiding, I felt on top of the world. I felt a sense of renewal. I had more energy. I was eating healthier than ever and hitting the gym. I was certain that my little one would enter the world with a plate full of vegetables, ready to run a marathon.
Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, God had another plan for us. Somewhere in the world, a woman would experience the perfect pregnancy, but that woman would not be me.
Preterm 