Capable and Efficient

*I've had so many thoughts over the last few months, but things have just been so chaotic and I haven't had a chance to really process. So here's the first of catching up on months worth of blog posts.*

Jonathan and I joke around that my middle name was efficient. That's just the way I like to do things: very orderly, in an organized fashion, efficiently, and well. If I didn't know how to do it efficiently, I would figure it out. I would even joke with him that he married me because I was capable and efficient. We all know that's not true.

Well, after I got pregnant, I learned very suddenly and very quickly that I was going to be neither capable nor efficient for a while. I was not one of the lucky women who breezes through first trimester without feeling sick. I didn't wash the dishes. I didn't cook. I couldn't look at a computer screen for long periods of time. Any hint of smells sent me running. I didn't want to eat anything. We couldn't eat meals together or even in the same room. My stomach felt like it was churning constantly. I could barely get myself to shower. I went from being the wife who could work an eight-hour day, leave the office, run to two grocery stores, come home, and have a home-cooked meal ready by 6:30 pm, to this slob of a person who only changed when she had piano lessons to teach, and spent the other waking hours of the day in bed sleeping or hugging the toilet.

There was one lesson when one of my younger students even commented, "Is that your kitchen? It looks messy." I just politely smiled back and said, "Yes, that is my kitchen, and yes, it's a little messy. I haven't had time to clean it lately." Of course, in my head, I was secretly muttering, you have no idea what my life is like right now, kid. 

Despite my inefficiencies and lack of capability to do much of anything for myself, my wonderful, sweet husband stepped it up about 500% and took over at home after working a full day's work. We were blessed with friends who shared food for us him so he didn't have to live a bachelor lifestyle of PBJ and cold cut sandwiches for weeks on end. He washed the dishes, or I got used to living with dirty dishes piling in the sink for a while until he had time to load the dishwasher - this is where two people having 12 sets of plates and bowls and silverware for eight is NOT excessive. He fetched things for me when I felt too sick or too afraid to move for fear to get sick. He went out a countless number of times to buy things for me to eat or drink because I just had to have that specific item right then and there, and because hardly anything was staying down, we tried everything to find something that would.

Not only did he take over the daily household chores at home, but he singlehandedly finished the remaining DIY parts of our bathroom after the contractors did their part. He painted the cabinets, patched and painted the walls where we had removed old shelving, installed two vanity lights, two faucets, two P-traps, two towel rings, one toilet paper holder, and one towel bar, swept the floor, mopped the floor, and re-caulked the baseboards and crown molding. This doesn't even include the night he exterminated an ant infestation in our kitchen at 10pm at night.

And he did it all without complaining or getting irritated at me for not being able to do more.

I'm very grateful to be finally feeling better after what feels like a very long two months. It's refreshing to be able to get up and do things around the house without feeling like a complete potato (which we joked I wasn't even comparable to a potato because at my lowest, I probably had less nutrition in me than a potato). I'm slowly feeling more and more like myself, although some moments of queasy still sneak up on me here and there.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever go back to being my old, normal self, but I don't think our normal will ever be the same again. And honestly, it's okay. What needs to get done will get done whether efficiently or messily. And everything else finds a way.