Association is a powerful thing.
This time last September, I was eight weeks pregnant. And I was sick. Oh so very sick. I lived in a film of nausea. I functioned – as a Mom to three, I didn’t have a choice. But I was miserable every minute of every day.
Normally, I love fall. In the Upper Midwest, it’s a season of glory. The scarlet-hued trees, the clear blue skies, the crisp clean air. It’s perfection.
But this year, when the top of the maple trees started to burn with orange, I didn’t feel happy. I felt sick. And when the geese started to honk and fly overhead, I craved some toast. And the thought of spending another Saturday on the soccer field made me want to crawl into my bed and not come out until Christmas.
I assure you, I’m definitely not pregnant right now. What gives?
To this day, I get queasy when I hear the theme music for the Higglytown Heros, because clips of the show were peppered throughout the Playhouse Disney schedule in winter 2003, when I was pregnant with Connor (and toddler Natalie watched a lot of TV while I laid on the couch). I vividly remember the Thanksgiving Day when I found out I was pregnant with Natalie. I felt like I was living in a Tim Burton movie. Even during Teyla’s pregnancy, which was the easiest first trimester of the four, I was disgusted by the heady smell of the lilacs blooming around the house.
Thus, I know – this too shall pass. Next September, my gag reflex won’t be triggered by thoughts of bonfires and hot chocolate. I won’t feel the need to lie down when I see the leaves change.
The association doesn’t last long.
This lasts forever.
Which is why my strongest association with pregnancy is joy.
Kelly chronicled her final pregnancy here at 5 Minutes for Parenting. You can find her personal ramblings on her blog Love Well.