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.

~Nichole

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!

~Nichole

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?

~Nichole

Houston, we have a heartbeat!

I had to get up to pee for the second time at 4:30 a.m. When, at 5:40 a.m. I was still not slipping back into sleep, I decided I needed something to eat. My stomach was not letting me sleep!

Up for a piece of raisin toast I went. Then commenced the awkward dance M and I have become so adept at. I wake him up by getting up in the first place and then again by coming back to bed. He tries desperately to get back to sleep, which tossing & turning keeps me from getting back there myself. Repeat ad nauseum until the alarm goes off (unless I relegate him to the couch, which I did for the first time yesterday morning and felt guilty for having done the instant I saw his long legs extending past the end of the couch).

I made it to The Appointment on time (miracle of miracles). When I was called back, I saw that M-A had cut her hair short and complimented her on it. As we were led to the room, I felt simultaneously embarrassed that I had brought an entourage (M and my sister T), and also nervousness that my doc was going to do something embarrassing like forget my medical history or my name.

Instead, I admitted my weight out loud in front of my husband and my sister. Never a comfortable thing, and much much different than saying it to my doc's NP. Doc came in with his game face on, brisk as ever as he got my details: date of LMP, a little spotting here and there but otherwise nothing to report.

Then, we waited and waited - not a usual thing in this office - and finally went back for The Main Event (aka the ultrasound). T waited politely outside while I stripped "from the waist down" and draped the green little sheet over my lap. My doc came in and two conversations broke out simultaneously, both about dogs. M-A told me about her retriever, while Doc told funny stories about his 4 dogs, and by the time the conversations joined together, Doc was talking about dogs on the bed and the phrase "weinie up" he and his wife created about their sole male Corgi, all the while I'm scooching my butt down, putting my feet in stirrups, and he's taking cultures. That's Dr. M for ya! LOL!

I made sure M and T were both in viewing proximity for The Main Event (the monitor, not my vag!). And then, I saw a nice, ovally gestational sac. Score! Then an embryo. Double score! Then a small flutter. Triple score! I stopped holding my breath. (in more ways than one)

I hated when Doc would freeze the image to take measurements because the visual of the heartbeat would pause and I just wanted to sit there and watch it flutter all day long!

I feel like I can finally be happy! While there's still a chance of miscarriage, it is now decreased by 10-15%. We like to decrease risks wherever possible, so this is great news! I see him again in 2 weeks, which is slightly more frequent than the average pregnancy, but reassuring all the same.

We're happy and cautiously excited (which seems like an oxymoron). M's trying to commit me to a name, so I know he's excited and ready.

In other news, the stomach did so much better today. The only thing I can attribute it to is that I ate better foods more often and earlier than normal. I really need to get back on the water! And get new running shoes, 'cuz I'm cleared by Doc to start exercising again, but figured I'd better wait until this stomach stuff clears up!

~Nichole

Love/Hate

I can't say I've ever really loved food. During most of my 20s, food was only a means to an end, an interruption of my regularly scheduled program. Since then, I've found that I've come to enjoy food, but I'm so far from being a foodie it's ridiculous.

But now, I'm finding that I pretty much hate food. I get grossed out by the thought of food, but I spend a lot of time thinking about food because I don't want to eat, but if I don't, my stomach is very unhappy. I tend to think about everything I eat in terms of how it will taste when I burp it back up. I've found that while bland foods work, bland foods also suck. But so do spicy ones. And I'm still burping up everything I eat.

I made a grocery list last night and was grossed out by most everything on it. M cooked with onions last night which nearly gagged me. I can barely stand to look in the fridge because there are: 1) leftovers (gross!); 2) bland foods; 3) whole, gutted trout that M caught this past Saturday.

I ate a great chili dog for lunch today. All beef, with turkey chili & beans, onions, mustard. . . yum. Not so much about 30 minutes later. . .

Yup! It's official. I hate food. Hopefully, not forever.

~Nichole

Perfect Storm

Unfortunately, I've had enough UTIs to know exactly how my body reacts to them. A couple of days ago, my body did something funny that made me wonder if I had one. I thought "nah!"

Until yesterday morning at 5:30, when I got up to pee for the 3rd time during the night. 1 time, yes. 2 times, yes. But 3? A little excessive. Then came the stinging, tingling sensation in my bladder, which kept me from going back to sleep easily. Well, that and my tossing, turning husband.

The alarm went off an hour earlier at 7:00 so I could be up to get to work earlier before The Appointment. I went to sleep after M hit the "snooze" but then the phone rang. It was my doc's office calling to say the doc is sick and they have to reschedule.

I was like "you've got to be kidding me! Up early AND I don't get to see the doc?! No fair!" So I asked M to set the alarm for an hour later and went back to sleep. Sort of.

M admitted he was a little disappointed. He was looking forward to seeing La Niña (which we've taken to calling her and which M says sounds like a tropical storm and which I sincerely hope our kid's personality does not resemble. . . I digress.) I immediately thought there had to be a reason for it, but by the end of the day had to admit I was a little disappointed too.

It was a pretty suck day but I got through it. The stomach is still iffy, the boobs twingey but not aching or sensitive, and I seem to be the slightest bit less tired during the day. I theorize this last one is because I'm eating throughout the day. But maybe not. Who knows.

The Appointment is on Wednesday. I'll be just shy of 8 weeks. I alternate between visions of a fabulous exam in which we see everything is healthy and visions of a heartwrenching exam in which doc is quiet and apologetic as things don't pan out. I push the latter out of my mind and go back to the first. I've tried to supress my hopefulness, holding out for The Appointment. . . but, secretly, hope comes creeping in when I least expect it.

~Nichole

{Insert Title Here. I'm too tired.}

I did go to the store last night, and have decided that ginger ale is my new best friend. You have NO idea how great it is to burb up something without a taste for once! Oh! and! it helps me keep from burping everything else up, too. Yea!

Oh, but I had to go back to the store today because I had a hankering for Ramen noodles (and decided I'd better get more ginger ale), but had to leave everything there because my debit card was sitting on the counter near the stove, right where I left it last night. Doh! I did not go back to the store like I promised. Instead, I used my energy to make tacos for dinner. Followed by a ginger ale chaser.

Today was another hard day to get through. I seriously need a mid morning nap every day. And a mid afternoon one, too. Ugh. I'm going to bed.

P.S. the spotting stopped today. Yea! Tomorrow is 7 weeks! And the day after that is The Appointment.

~Nichole

Kicking me when I'm Down

I got to work this morning late. An hour later I was trying to find a way to keep from putting my head on the desk. Either that, or find a way to take a surreptitious nap in my car or an empty office without anyone noticing my absence.

I laid down at lunch, a daily ritual so far this week. It wasn't enough. I literally dragged myself back to work. Late again.

I came home early from work to sleep. I started getting stuffy, headachey, and just plain down over the continued spotting. So, I just woke up from a nap. I missed my 6:00 meeting.

I noticed a new package of toilet paper outside the bedroom door. I yelled "hello?" to an empty house and searched to find my husband planting in his garden. "Did you go to the store?" "Yes!" "I had a list" (pouting). ("thank you" probably would have been a nicer response, I know.)

But the list had things on it like ginger ale, ginger snaps, saltines. . . Things I've finally relented and admitted in writing that I need.

Oh well. I'm in no mood to go to the grocery store tonight - unless I could convince him to go again, this time with me.

In short, this baby is kicking my trash! (see previous post.) But the truth is that while it's totally taken me by surprise, I'm glad to feel my way through this crappy existence. M keeps saying "are you sure you want to do this more than once?" Today I answered him, "It's only 6 weeks - what's 6 weeks in the grand scheme?" And surprisingly, I meant it.

~Nichole

Checking the Chichis

On Saturday, I had a little spotting. Enough to cause a little worry, but not enough to be really worried. It cleared up in the afternoon, but then reappeared (although very scanty) Sunday morning and cleared up by the afternoon. Yesterday, there was nothing much to report. This morning brought darker spotting and a clot. I told M about it and he said “let’s just see what the doc says on Friday.” I took a deep breath and said “OK”. I’m so glad I can rely on him to be my strength, because the strength of my hope is not what it once was. My defenses are low, my hope is weak, and my body and mind are tired.

I’ve tried to convince myself that it’s really nothing and could be very normal, but I’ve internalized it more than I realized. Last time, my symptoms dropped off around 5.5 weeks. I’m 6.5 weeks and still have symptoms (plus a queasy stomach and food aversions on a daily basis, which I didn’t really have last time), but I’m paranoid they’ll drop off any second now.

Since “Careful with the boobs!” has taken its rightful place as my number one phrase, effectively ousting “I’m SO tired!”, I’m paying constant attention to “the girls” and testing their optimum level of soreness. They were not as sore yesterday as they have been. But, they were twinge-y and achey, so I supposed that to be a good sign. Plus I asked T and L, who basically both told me that the soreness is not on a continual upward continuum. Go figure. When I took off my bra at the end of the day, I found out how wrong I was about the soreness – still very sore. Symptom 1: check.

I think another reason I can’t keep the worry at bay is I’m still very tired. I wake up and feel rested for the first 10 minutes, which usually find me still lying in bed. So, by the time I get out of bed, I’m already tired again. I claw and crawl my way toward quitting time every day I’m at work. When I’m not at work, I take naps every day. I took a nap on Friday afternoon, Saturday morning, and Sunday afternoon. I even laid down yesterday at lunch, but more to rest than to sleep. Symptom 2: check.

This morning when I got out of the shower, I heard M clanging pans in the kitchen. I wondered if it would be oatmeal or cream of wheat. I walked into the kitchen and saw tortillas and what looked like eggs. I smelled spices - onion and garlic – and had to cover my nose. The smell nearly made me sick. Symptom 3: check.

I taste everything twice. Yup. I eat it, then I burb it up. Everything. Grapes, pizza, apples, egg burros, cereal. . . Everything. I can't eat leftovers for this exact reason. Even if they're good leftovers. Symptom 4: check.

"My bowels! My bowels!" (that's a scriptural reference, for shizzle.) Gas. Constipation. Totally sucks. Symptom 5: check.

Yesterday I prayed for some sort of assurance that things will be OK. I expressed my fears to M by phone. Last night, as I was falling to sleep like a brick from a building, M lay his hand on my belly. Several minutes later (after what I can only surmise was a prayer), he leaned over and said “I think everything is going to be OK” and some other comforting things and silently, I acknowledged that his reassurance can be my assurance for now. It will be enough. As I drifted off to sleep, for the first time this pregnancy, I had a vision of a baby: I picked up a tiny baby wearing a white onesie and held her to me, her feet tucked up to her bum, her hair dark, her skin pink. . .

~Nichole

Searching the History

Out of sheer curiosity (and the littlest, teensiest bit of doubt-slash-fear), I pulled out my calendar from last year to search the history of my last pregnancy to analyze it within an inch of its life. You know, much like one tends to do with summers, boyfriends, and the like: was this like this last time?

When consulting the calendar didn't yield the information I was seeking, I turned here and found exactly what I was looking for: evidence that, despite my obvious hopes to the contrary, my last pregnancy had problems right from the start. Problems that this pregnancy is currently (and blessedly) free of.

So when that niggling fear came calling once again today, I forced it from my mind with the convincing thought that this baby will come to us if it's Heavenly Father's will. And no amount of worrying will change that.

~Nichole