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
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