Pregnancy: the non-sugarcoated version

I want to accurately document what pregnancy is like for me.  Most of the time, it is rough.  Mornings are the hardest.  I throw up pretty much every morning.  The mornings where I choke on my bile as it comes up are the worst.  If the kids get up in the night, I will ask John to help them.  Otherwise, I throw up in the middle of the night as well.  I hate going to sleep each night because I know that morning is coming.  I hate waking up each morning because that means it has arrived.  I miss mornings where John and I snuggled in bed before we entered the world.  Now, instead of snuggling, my morning consists of deep breathing in a futile attempt to prevent the vomit that comes with each dawn.
The day continues with me feeling sick.  On a bad day there is more puking.  On a good day, I just feel like I'm going to throw up all day.  I have to sit or lie down for the majority of it.  That makes being a mother, a homeschool teacher, and a household manager quite difficult.  My house falls to pieces.  I've always been a neat, orderly person.  I drop my garbage from the side of the bed.  My cups of melted ice and ginger ale adorn my nightstand.  The dust, dirt, and food particles on my floor are enough to fill a plethora of vacuums.  I wash my laundry and it sits on the counter of the laundry room. It gets used up rather than put away.  My sink is most likely filled with nasty dishes, think cereal bowls with rotting milk.  The bathrooms are absolutely repulsive and I cringe whenever someone happens to come over and needs to relieve themselves.  Our dog is filthy and I plug my nose every time I walk by her smelly bed that needs to be washed.  My garage looks like something exploded in it.
I can count on one hand the number of times I've made dinner the last few months.  My kids are sustaining themselves with frozen nuggets, cold cereal, hot dogs, and snacks.  They are bathing half as frequently as before.  Their nails need cut.  They dress themselves with the result being that sometimes they look homeless.  Their half hour electronic time has permanently disappeared.
My husband has seen a dramatic increase in his responsibilities at home.  He puts the kids to bed each night.  He helps them find something to eat.  He vacuums and does dishes when there is no more avoiding the problem.
I've been surviving on saltines, cheerios, and ginger ale.  Water makes me throw up.  Food makes me throw up (even the 2 options listed).  Some nights I cry as I eat another bowl of cheerios because I am so incredible sick of them.  I brush my teeth as quickly as I can so I can try to avoid throwing up from that.
There are days where I just break down in tears from emotional and physical exhaustion.  I've been sick for 13 weeks.  91 days.  3 months.  And there isn't necessarily an end in sight.  I looked through my personal writings to see if I could find hope of things easing up.  I was still throwing up at 25 weeks.  That is 12 weeks away.  84 days.  Almost 3 months.  No wonder there have been times where I've sunk into an ugly depression while being pregnant.  But I am fighting so hard in order for that not to happen this time.  The pregnancy ends, but the effects depression has on your spouse take much longer than 9 months to recover from.  So I'm fighting with every ounce in me to not lose that battle.  There are nights when I think I'm not going to make it.
I never thought I'd be able to think of anything positive about being pregnant (other than the baby at the end), but I have seen the hand of God in my life these last few months.
I am so overwhelmed with gratitude for my husband John.  So incredibly overwhelmed.  The awful state I'm in gives him an opportunity to share his compassion, love, and empathy in ways I don't normally see.  He has been so kind with me.  It allows him to serve me in ways that he normally can't because I like to be an independent person.  He has been so quick to step in and do anything that might give me a little boost or help me in some way.  He has never complained about how I've basically stopped doing any of my duties, but instead, he has willingly and happily taken them over for me.  He is always asking what he can do for me, what aspect of the dirty house is bothering me the most so he can clean it.  He goes to the store and runs all kinds of errands.  It has been so moving to see his love in action.
And the same applies to my sweet kids.  Avery is 7 and Carston is 9 and they have been so incredible in their service to me.  They make sure every morning that Macy and Kate get breakfast.  Avery will bring me cheerios in a cup, or pancakes that she has made all by herself.  They put Macy and Kate to bed if needed.  They are forgiving and understanding about mommy being sick all the time and not able to play or do anything.  They carry groceries in and put them away.  They empty the dishwasher.  They are so sweet and kind.  Macy tries to help with whatever she can.  She will help Kate get yogurt, or play with her in the mornings.  Kate is concerned every time I throw up. "Are you sick again mommy?"  She asks me that all the time.  They rub my arms and backs with their little hands when I lie down after throwing up.  They are so incredibly sweet and loving.  After years of serving and taking care of them, it touches me so deeply to be the recipient of their service.
The other blessing that has come has been the knowledge that God is watching over me and will sustain me.  There have been so many times where I've needed to do something, something simple or small, and I didn't think I could because I was emotionally or physically spent.  I will pray and immediately feel his strength pouring into me.  One day, I needed to return a phone call.  Silly right? But it was a really bad day.  I didn't want to speak to anyone for fear my voice would betray the awful state of my mind.  I went in my closet and prayed, came back out and made the call.  Another time, I was at church and had to leave sacrament twice to throw up.  I got the keys from John and went and broke down in the car.  I felt awful emotionally and physically.  I wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed, but I had to lead the music in primary.  If you've ever had that calling, you know that it is almost impossible to get a substitute.  So I prayed.  And I stopped crying.  I went in and did what I had to do.  There are other times when I'm struggling, and I will get quiet reminders of why I'm doing this, and it gives me strength to get through another day.
So as much as I am struggling to make it through this pregnancy, I am equally overwhelmed by the love that I feel from my husband, my children, and God.