The Update

The Talk: The night before The Appointment, we were sprawled across the white down comforter on our bed, talking. M professed his love for the baby. I admitted I was just not feeling it, so I'm glad one of us was.

The Appointment: I went to The Appointment. The second one. At 10 weeks. I held my breath, waiting to see what there was to see. What I saw was a head, a heart, and a little body with tiny waving arms. Phew! Given the good news, doc said he didn't need to see me again for 4 weeks. Yea!

The Harassment: I thought I was paranoid about going to the family reunion-slash-Easter party with my mom's family. A couple of days before, I asked M if I looked different, "like pregnant different". He said no and I think he thought I was crazy. And paranoid. I wasn't. My being pregnant (or not) was a huge topic. Mir asked me again, which prompted my cousin to feel my belly and my head. (Whaaaa?) Then, my aunt asked my sister. Then my cousin's girlfriend asked me. Yeah. Sooo NOT paranoid. Par for the course. . .

The Unveiling: So, after the reunion, my mom called and asked point blank. I jumped all over her, fussed and complained about The Harassment, and then fessed up. I told everyone at work, including my boss. That was fun, and began with "your keen intuitive powers have probably told you something's up with your assistant. . . " He was happy for me, but managed to secure my promise that I'll be returning from mat leave. Let's see. . . who else? My mom told her family, and M told one of his brothers. That's it so far.

The Body: Weeks 9 and 10 were hell. The worst so far. Bad temperamental food issues, complete with smell and taste sensitivities and everything. Queasiness, too. Bad fatigue. Seriously, until last week, I hadn't worked a full 8 hour day for weeks. But, I'm gradually feeling better. More energy, bit by bit. Less queasiness and belching, bit by bit. Not having to eat every couple of hours, being able to drink more water, etc. etc. BUT, this week brought wicked bad migraines and some spotting. So, yesterday, I got to find out that I can't take anything for my head, and got to see the baby again. BIG sigh of relief - baby's intact and I'll be 12 weeks in 2 days. Woohoo!

The Mood: I've been frustrated to tears with all the not feeling good and being tired. I told myself that it's just a few more weeks and it'll be over. Then, on Sunday, I had an emotional, crying meltdown because our printer wouldn't work. When I walked into the bathroom with a tear-streaked face, M was scared (what, with all the spotting this weekend) until I sobbed "the printer's persecuting me!". All the crying is what set off the migraine, I think. Doc gave me some magnesium glycinate. It was either that or narcotic pain meds. I chose the mag glyc, which seems to be helping.

The Relief: Given the healthy almost-12-week ultrasound, I feel like I can finally relax a little. I'm feeling a little more certain, a little more . . . able to get used to the idea. Of course, there's always another worry around the corner. Today, our front door was already locked, unbeknownst to me, who flung myself at it full force to open it ("yea! I made it through the day! Migraine and all. . . "). The hand bar struck the side of my stomach/left hip area, and I tried to massage the sting away, praying that I didn't just hurt the baby. I came home and iced it. It's going to leave a nice sized bruise for sure, but hopefully baby is OK.



Should & Shouldn't

I know I shouldn't complain. . .

But the plan was to go to bed early so I could get some extra sleep. I was exhausted today.

The plan did not NOT include waking up eleventy million times, not being able to go back to sleep, deciding to move to the couch, and still being up at 2:30 in the morning with a touch-and-go stomach and a tired, but not sleepy, body!

I should be asleep! I'm still exhausted!



Knick Knack Paddywhack

It’s been a strange week. For the most part The Symptoms continue, but are easing up ever so slightly. I’m not as tired, but still exhausted. I’m not as queasy, but still have wicked indigestion and acid. I’m not as sore in the boob area, but they still twinge. Just last night, when M re-entered the kitchen to find the groceries already put away, I told him "every now and then I get a glimpse of my former Super Woman self." He laughed.

Saturday and Sunday brought art festivals, church, and naps. Oh, and a strange version of the Spanish inquisition from my sister on Saturday while visiting Mom:

Mir- (crocheting by firelight) So, I have a question. Are you pregnant?

N- (avoiding direct eye contact. Wait. No. Make direct eye contact NOW!) What!? Why?

Mir- I had a dream that you were and that there was a complication. Something happened, but you were able to keep the baby. You couldn’t have anymore kids, but you were happy because at least you had one.

N- Don’t say that!

J- (brother interjects with some much needed distraction/change of subject)

N- (latches onto the new subject, leaving behind the old)

Mir- Oh, mom, that wasn’t a denial! She didn’t deny it.

N- Whatever! (subject officially dropped)

I’m still slow to jump on the Happy bandwagon. I’m taking it one day at a time. I’ve had a lot of thoughts lately. Like “how on earth did I get to this place? This is really happening! Holy crap!” and other such pleasantries. Not that I’m not happy. It’s just that all the caution and the wait-and-see have deadened the excitement a little. Well, that and the feeling crappy. It’s just such a surprise that I feel so tired and queasy so much of the time, and that I don’t feel as excited or happy as I thought I would. To be fair to myself, I’m still holding out for my progesterone level results and to see what happens at my 10 week appt with the doc.

But then M does something to cut through my steely façade, like calling me up at work to ask if the baby has fingers yet and saying how he’ll tell her (when she’s old enough to understand) that we had her because we really love each other. And I get a little weepy, and feel a little happier and more excited, all at once.

Yesterday, in the wee, small hours of the morning, after my second pee trip of the night, I was rocked by images of a baby getting into things, putting glass objects into her mouth, and pulling my tower shelf down onto herself in my living room. I started making mental checklists of things to baby proof in each room, before banishing all such thoughts and coaxing sleep back to its rightful spot in my consciousness.

I also realized how much pressure I’m putting on my second trimester. I want to travel, sew baby valences, changing pads, a crib skirt and a diaper bag, feel a lot better, start running again, do some major spring cleaning and hard core dusting, start prepping baby’s room (and find a new place to store all our outdoor gear), do more of the thing that got me into this crazy-wonderful situation, start baby proofing, do a baby registry. . . . that’s a lot of stuff to do in 3 short months.

Oh, and it turns out my sister T feels ever so slightly guilty that she knows something my mom doesn’t know. She needn’t worry too much though. My Big Plan is to spill the beans to my mom in some fantastical way around the time of her birthday-slash-Mother’s Day and then invite certain Specials into this little cocoon I’ve created. That should help all the Didn’t Knows feel better, no?


"May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world." -Ray Bradbury