There is only one thing worse than moving when you are pregnant. Okay, I should be grateful. At least it’s second trimester, not first or third. I mean, I’d be perfectly useless in the first trimester. In the third, I could direct, but I wouldn’t be much help. In the second, I at least have the energy to pack and unpack–at least, more than I would with the other two.

This is actually the third time I’ve moved while pregnant. First time was from one town to the next, and I was in my first trimester of my first pregnancy. Fortunately we didn’t have much, and my husband was able to move it all himself without my help. The second move was during the second trimester of my second pregnancy. It is amazing how much I did–even to driving the big moving truck!

But this time trumps it all of those times. What is worse than moving while pregnant? Moving while pregnant and sick.

The day of the move out of our house in Aloha, OR, I was feeling pretty well. I could tell I was fighting something, but my energy was good and I figured I could do what needed to be done. Thankfully I had some help with getting packed and loading the van (because carrying heavy boxes was not something I felt safe doing, especially this far along in pregnancy). But I overdid it. The next day, I could tell that I was succumbing to whatever I wad fighting. And I succumbed. Missed church and everything. My daughter, on the other hand, was able to rest when she felt sick and got well in just a few days. I was sick for almost a week.

We moved most of our stuff to the new home and a few things we needed to our friends’ basement apartment for a few days while we waited for everything to be finished in the home. I had planned on spending the days we stayed in the basement unpacking and organizing the house, so that it would be easier to move in. Instead, I spent most of them relaxing in a recliner and trying to recover from being sick.

One week after moving out of the rental house, I was feeling well enough that I just wanted to move into out new house. So I packed up our stuff and got a friend to come help ne load and unload the van.

But once again I overdid it. And while I didn’t get quite as sick as I had the week before, I was not exactly well either. I had a sinus infection that was toying with being bronchitis. Then it was finally clearing up, and I was trying desperately to be productive, cooking and doing mountains of laundry (because our bedding had been in storage for a year and was musty smelling–as were our towels, my maternity clothes, and other needed items), and trying to unpack and organize the kitchen and the rest of the house.

A couple of those days, I was so out of it that all I could do, it seemed, was cry and wish someone would come over and help me. Or bring me food so I didn’t have to cook. Or offer to watch the kids for an hour or two so I could focus on unpacking, or take a much-needed nap.

But no one came. I went to bed early and felt better the next day.

But then, exactly two weeks after moving out, I noticed my sinuses were getting bad again. As in, infected. But I had two prenatal appointments, and a kitchen that was very much in need of staples like fresh fruit and veggies and some other commonly used items. So I went shopping. By the end if the day I was dragging, and I was in bed a bit early. Or I should say the recliner, since my hip was bothering me and laying down just makes it worse–especially for midnight trips to the potty!

Well, that was yesterday. Today, I have a sinus headache. It’s 10:00 am as I’m writing. I’ve eaten breakfast, and my daughter has (my husband prepared it while I tried to sleep), but my son still hasn’t eaten. You might remember that he is allergic to almost everything, and he is going through the typical 3-year-old I-no-yike-dat-food stage, so almost every meal is a battle. And I don’t have energy for battles right now. Not to mention that I don’t really feel it’s good to have battles over food. I’d rather let him get good and hungry so that he’s willing to eat whatever is set before him.

So now I’m worn out, wishing I had help, trying not to be overwhelmed by the things that must get done today, wishing I had more energy to do what needs to be done.

And thinking that the next time I hear of someone that is sick or moving, I am going to bake a casserole and head over and offer to help. Even if I have to drag the kids along. The friend who helped me pack had kids, and I really couldn’t have done it without her.

And I hope that I can get over this infection soon and be back to being the happy mom that I like to be!