At about one o'clock in the morning, that statement pounded through my head, "YOU ARE ALONE." I instantly associated it with my pregnancy, as in, I am alone in my body now. Had the baby died? Impossible to tell. Ultrasound on Tuesday morning at 10:15am.
The sheer terror that dominates every day is sometimes too difficult to withstand. Although I haven't calculated exactly, and Dr. W's measurements have been inconsistent (he says it's because it's tough to consistently measure an embryo this small), I think I'm at about seven weeks, with at least two weeks of this hell of uncertaintly.
I find solace in not telling people. Everyone is on a need-to-know basis, and the more I forget that I'm pregnant, the happier I am. But then again, I'm in a constant state of checking myself for symptoms -- the emergence or subsidence thereof. And although the bleeding has abated, I still check several times a day, just to make sure.
The vexing thing is that with my last pregnancy, I had nausea, a heartbeat at seven weeks, all of the symptoms, no indication of anything, then it died at 8.5 weeks, only to be discovered at 10.5 weeks. It was this mysterious event that happened within my body and was completely out of my control, and escaped my notice entirely, as I continued vomiting throughout the time after the baby died.
So of course I'm extremely paranoid. And a voice like that in the middle of the night is enough to send me into spasms of fear. I didn't sleep for most of the night, wondering, wondering, did it die? Do I need to have another D&C?
And the oddest thing is that I'm comfortable here. This land of fear, dread, and a terrible certainty that my newest baby has died -- is familiar. And it's safe. It's much safer to live in a land of unfettered skepticism and to be shocked by good news, rather than allow a kind of effervescent optimism, which forever threatens to bring me up into the highly dangerous land of hope, to take over.
If I can just make it to Tuesday morning, skittering along in my pessimistic state, dulling my senses and ignoring my own body as much as possible, then maybe I'll be OK. As for the baby, well, perhaps I am "alone" now, which would really make me sad.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Thank God for Princey
We have three cats.
(1) Stanley, the old three-legged tabby who has all but moved in with the neighbors because toddlers piss him off.
(2) Otto, our chubby tuxedo cat, a majestic mama's boy
and
(3) Prince, Otto's identical twin, a wanderer and serial killer
Prince has turned over a new leaf, though, as I've weathered this pregnancy drama. He is suddenly my shadow. He sleeps on the bed with me all night long. He's on my lap as I type this -- very unlike him. This has always been Otto's position, but Prince seems to have adopted me in my time of need.
My grief counselor told me that cats seems to know that women are pregnant before they even know. You could chalk this up to some superior cat intelligence or intuition, but I think it's the heat. Pregnant ladies are simply the hottest people in the house, and cats gravitate to them like iguanas to heated rocks.
But I want to give Prince more credit than that. He's been a stalwart champ through all of my coughing and moaning and bad feelings, and he also makes me feel better. When I'm petting Prince, I forget that I may be on the brink of miscarriage. I'm just a very important person in this cat's life, and would I PLEASE continue scratching the back of his neck?
It's come to the point that when I'm having an anxiety attack, I seek him out. I call to him from our porches and I rejoice when I see him saunter up. He lets me lift him up and maul him. Chebbles also mauls him, as gently as she can, and he tolerates her ministrations like a champ.
Since he has become the Minister of Affection in the house, he has not killed one bird, rat or mole (to our knowledge). He no longer wanders all night long, coming home smelling of other women's perfume and/or covered with burrs.
He is suddenly my very best friend.
Now, I wonder if the OB will let me bring him to the ultrasound?
(1) Stanley, the old three-legged tabby who has all but moved in with the neighbors because toddlers piss him off.
(2) Otto, our chubby tuxedo cat, a majestic mama's boy
and
(3) Prince, Otto's identical twin, a wanderer and serial killer
Prince has turned over a new leaf, though, as I've weathered this pregnancy drama. He is suddenly my shadow. He sleeps on the bed with me all night long. He's on my lap as I type this -- very unlike him. This has always been Otto's position, but Prince seems to have adopted me in my time of need.
My grief counselor told me that cats seems to know that women are pregnant before they even know. You could chalk this up to some superior cat intelligence or intuition, but I think it's the heat. Pregnant ladies are simply the hottest people in the house, and cats gravitate to them like iguanas to heated rocks.
But I want to give Prince more credit than that. He's been a stalwart champ through all of my coughing and moaning and bad feelings, and he also makes me feel better. When I'm petting Prince, I forget that I may be on the brink of miscarriage. I'm just a very important person in this cat's life, and would I PLEASE continue scratching the back of his neck?
It's come to the point that when I'm having an anxiety attack, I seek him out. I call to him from our porches and I rejoice when I see him saunter up. He lets me lift him up and maul him. Chebbles also mauls him, as gently as she can, and he tolerates her ministrations like a champ.
Since he has become the Minister of Affection in the house, he has not killed one bird, rat or mole (to our knowledge). He no longer wanders all night long, coming home smelling of other women's perfume and/or covered with burrs.
He is suddenly my very best friend.
Now, I wonder if the OB will let me bring him to the ultrasound?
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
I hope I'm wrong
Tomorrow morning I go in for another ultrasound, and I'm very afraid that this will be the Ultrasound of Doom.
This is because my symptoms have stopped. I am no longer nauseated and tired, but fairly chipper, eating like a horse, and taking an interest in the cleanliness of my home. Those three attributes have never coincided with a pregnancy for me before.
To be fair, I'm not completely without a tiny bit of nausea, but I'm used to crippling attacks. My theory is that the baby died shortly after my Monday ultrasound, as that is when I started feeling mysteriously so much better. I saw the big single-chambered heart and then it gave up the ghost.
I hope I'm wrong. I really do, but as much as it's possible, I've reconciled myself to either outcome. Either the baby is still alive and I have two more long weeks of agonizing through until we're "safe," or the baby is not still alive and I will endeavor to end the remaining "pregnancy" as fast as possible, so I can start cycling and "throw the dice" another time.
It's just a terrible world to live in, checking myself for pregnancy symptoms that aren't cropping up. At least the spotting has slowed down, but it did that when the other baby died as well, so that does nothing to assuage my fears. As I type this, I am feeling increasingly nauseated, but that's just nerves. It is absolutely nothing like the real morning sickness I felt with my pregnancy with Chebbles and my December pregnancy.
I had a conversation with myself in the mirror this evening, which I found oddly comforting:
Me: So am I OK?
Me: Yes.
Me: Am I going to get everything I want in life? (meaning more children)
Me: No.
Me: Am I still going to lead a happy life?
Me: Yes.
It was nice to release myself from this harsh obligation -- the obligation to gestate another child into the world. If this is gestational Strike Three, then one wonders if Strike Four can't be far behind. Perhaps we've got some DNA wires permanently crossed now. We have a friend who suffered her fourth miscarriage last year, and now they're headed down the adoption route.
So anyway, it's not unheard of, to have a bazillion miscarriages for no apparent reason. And it's not unheard of to raise a happy, only child.
Tomorrow morning's ultrasound will reveal to me whether it's possible for me to be pregnant and not vomiting all of the time, or if this cessation of symptoms is always indicative of embryo loss for me. I was feeling pretty darn sick over the weekend and throughout Monday, but then I started feeling GREAT. Too great.
I talked to the nurse today, and she told me not to worry, that I was under no obligation to be sick every day of my pregnancy. But I know my body. When it's pregnant, it wants to vomit all of the time. It manufactures gallons of extra mucus and I spew it every morning. Sorry that's so gross, but that's precisely what my body does when it's pregnant.
And now? I'm happily cooking and cleaning and dancing around with Chebbles. So it doesn't feel like a pregnancy at all. It feels like an ended pregnancy, which blows. Don't get me wrong, it blows a LOT. But I feel a kind of (denial?) peace about the whole situation.
I haven't ever really believed in this pregnancy. Despite that heartbeat at Monday's ultrasound, I've kept the whole thing at bay. It's as though I've kept this tiny flicker of hope hidden amidst a massive ball of skepticism. And when the flame goes out, I won't be shocked as I've been before. I'll be mad and disappointed, but I won't be shocked. It will be sad, it will be another loss. It will be another calendar minefield, whereas certain dates will pop up forever, reminding me of another pregnancy that didn't result in a live child. But I feel more "in control" of this loss.
And as I write that, I think, why am I considering this loss a forgone conclusion? To protect myself. That's the only reason -- to protect myself from the massive waves of pain that will result. I'll still feel them, but I can at least remove the "shock" element from the situation.
This way, if by some miracle there is still a heartbeat (and if there is, I still have two more weeks of holding my breath before it's a "real" pregnancy), it will be a big, unexpected prize. And if there is no heartbeat, just a little floater in there, waiting for permission from his mama to leave her body, well I can be just as sad as I thought I would be, which is a lot.
This is because my symptoms have stopped. I am no longer nauseated and tired, but fairly chipper, eating like a horse, and taking an interest in the cleanliness of my home. Those three attributes have never coincided with a pregnancy for me before.
To be fair, I'm not completely without a tiny bit of nausea, but I'm used to crippling attacks. My theory is that the baby died shortly after my Monday ultrasound, as that is when I started feeling mysteriously so much better. I saw the big single-chambered heart and then it gave up the ghost.
I hope I'm wrong. I really do, but as much as it's possible, I've reconciled myself to either outcome. Either the baby is still alive and I have two more long weeks of agonizing through until we're "safe," or the baby is not still alive and I will endeavor to end the remaining "pregnancy" as fast as possible, so I can start cycling and "throw the dice" another time.
It's just a terrible world to live in, checking myself for pregnancy symptoms that aren't cropping up. At least the spotting has slowed down, but it did that when the other baby died as well, so that does nothing to assuage my fears. As I type this, I am feeling increasingly nauseated, but that's just nerves. It is absolutely nothing like the real morning sickness I felt with my pregnancy with Chebbles and my December pregnancy.
I had a conversation with myself in the mirror this evening, which I found oddly comforting:
Me: So am I OK?
Me: Yes.
Me: Am I going to get everything I want in life? (meaning more children)
Me: No.
Me: Am I still going to lead a happy life?
Me: Yes.
It was nice to release myself from this harsh obligation -- the obligation to gestate another child into the world. If this is gestational Strike Three, then one wonders if Strike Four can't be far behind. Perhaps we've got some DNA wires permanently crossed now. We have a friend who suffered her fourth miscarriage last year, and now they're headed down the adoption route.
So anyway, it's not unheard of, to have a bazillion miscarriages for no apparent reason. And it's not unheard of to raise a happy, only child.
Tomorrow morning's ultrasound will reveal to me whether it's possible for me to be pregnant and not vomiting all of the time, or if this cessation of symptoms is always indicative of embryo loss for me. I was feeling pretty darn sick over the weekend and throughout Monday, but then I started feeling GREAT. Too great.
I talked to the nurse today, and she told me not to worry, that I was under no obligation to be sick every day of my pregnancy. But I know my body. When it's pregnant, it wants to vomit all of the time. It manufactures gallons of extra mucus and I spew it every morning. Sorry that's so gross, but that's precisely what my body does when it's pregnant.
And now? I'm happily cooking and cleaning and dancing around with Chebbles. So it doesn't feel like a pregnancy at all. It feels like an ended pregnancy, which blows. Don't get me wrong, it blows a LOT. But I feel a kind of (denial?) peace about the whole situation.
I haven't ever really believed in this pregnancy. Despite that heartbeat at Monday's ultrasound, I've kept the whole thing at bay. It's as though I've kept this tiny flicker of hope hidden amidst a massive ball of skepticism. And when the flame goes out, I won't be shocked as I've been before. I'll be mad and disappointed, but I won't be shocked. It will be sad, it will be another loss. It will be another calendar minefield, whereas certain dates will pop up forever, reminding me of another pregnancy that didn't result in a live child. But I feel more "in control" of this loss.
And as I write that, I think, why am I considering this loss a forgone conclusion? To protect myself. That's the only reason -- to protect myself from the massive waves of pain that will result. I'll still feel them, but I can at least remove the "shock" element from the situation.
This way, if by some miracle there is still a heartbeat (and if there is, I still have two more weeks of holding my breath before it's a "real" pregnancy), it will be a big, unexpected prize. And if there is no heartbeat, just a little floater in there, waiting for permission from his mama to leave her body, well I can be just as sad as I thought I would be, which is a lot.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
If the spotting would just stop
If the spotting would just stop, I could feel better about this pregnancy. And if the nausea would be more reliable, and if I had an ultrasound machine next to my bed.
I am not sure how I should best weather these times between ultrasounds, and the time until mid-July, by which, if I'm still pregnant, we would have a much better chance of a successful pregnancy.
Inside me, if he's still there, he's developing a four-chambered heart, which is even more complicated than it sounds. That's how his sister tripped up last December, the miscarriage I had then. That baby's particular chromosomes just didn't push past the four-chambered heart hurdle. She had a heartbeat at seven weeks, but that was a single-chambered heart. As she endeavored to add the three extra chambers, the renovation just did her in.
So I'm hoping that this baby fords through and develops chambers like a champ. Because if he doesn't, I'll be laid up at Alta Bates Hospital surgical center, getting another dreary D&C. No thanks!
I am not sure how I should best weather these times between ultrasounds, and the time until mid-July, by which, if I'm still pregnant, we would have a much better chance of a successful pregnancy.
Inside me, if he's still there, he's developing a four-chambered heart, which is even more complicated than it sounds. That's how his sister tripped up last December, the miscarriage I had then. That baby's particular chromosomes just didn't push past the four-chambered heart hurdle. She had a heartbeat at seven weeks, but that was a single-chambered heart. As she endeavored to add the three extra chambers, the renovation just did her in.
So I'm hoping that this baby fords through and develops chambers like a champ. Because if he doesn't, I'll be laid up at Alta Bates Hospital surgical center, getting another dreary D&C. No thanks!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Still no symptoms
I'm going crazy, what with the lack of symptoms. C'mon folks, lay some symptoms on me so I can know this is a potentially "real" pregnancy.
And I have that same feeling I had last time, which is, if this pregnancy is NOT going to continue for some reason, I wish it would just end now, before I become even more attached to the idea of it, and it would give us more time to conceive another baby before I turn 40. Just shit or get off the pot, pregnancies. Honestly.
If for some reason this pregnancy doesn't work out, I feel like I want to do IVF with PGD for the next one, since presumably, we're conceiving children wtih genetic defects that result in miscarriage. And I don't want to do that route. No, I want this pregnancy to work out.
I talked with an acupuncturist this morning and she pissed me off. I had called her a week ago to schedule an appointment, and she's been calling back relentlessly. I haven't called her back because I'm experiencing what feels like an exceedingly precarious pregnancy, and I no longer need any fertility treatments, at least for the time being.
And she was very unhelpful, as she recommended I use Chinese medicine to get this pregnancy to continue. Her insinuation was that if I don't use Chinese medicine, I'm not giving this baby every chance I can. I mean, for Christ's sake, lady, you've clearly never had a miscarriage.
I don't know what to do. When I take a walk, I feel better, my head is cleared, but then the asinine acupuncturist told me that the best thing I can do is get as much rest as possible throughout my first trimester. I didn't even bother telling her I have a toddler. What was the point? Caring for Chebbles and "getting rest" are not commensurate activities.
OK, I'm off to Google Chinese medicine and miscarriage.
And I have that same feeling I had last time, which is, if this pregnancy is NOT going to continue for some reason, I wish it would just end now, before I become even more attached to the idea of it, and it would give us more time to conceive another baby before I turn 40. Just shit or get off the pot, pregnancies. Honestly.
If for some reason this pregnancy doesn't work out, I feel like I want to do IVF with PGD for the next one, since presumably, we're conceiving children wtih genetic defects that result in miscarriage. And I don't want to do that route. No, I want this pregnancy to work out.
I talked with an acupuncturist this morning and she pissed me off. I had called her a week ago to schedule an appointment, and she's been calling back relentlessly. I haven't called her back because I'm experiencing what feels like an exceedingly precarious pregnancy, and I no longer need any fertility treatments, at least for the time being.
And she was very unhelpful, as she recommended I use Chinese medicine to get this pregnancy to continue. Her insinuation was that if I don't use Chinese medicine, I'm not giving this baby every chance I can. I mean, for Christ's sake, lady, you've clearly never had a miscarriage.
I don't know what to do. When I take a walk, I feel better, my head is cleared, but then the asinine acupuncturist told me that the best thing I can do is get as much rest as possible throughout my first trimester. I didn't even bother telling her I have a toddler. What was the point? Caring for Chebbles and "getting rest" are not commensurate activities.
OK, I'm off to Google Chinese medicine and miscarriage.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
No symptoms
I am starting to fret big-time over my lack of symptoms. I don't feel remotely pregnant. Not that having symptoms helped my last pregnancy, it would just be reassuring right now, so I know I'm not having another "chemical" pregnancy.
It's also interesting how no one says "congratulations" yet. I don't want anyone to say congratulations, so it's a nice confluence of events.
Yesterday I had some dark bleeding while The Chebs and I were at Gymboree. A moment after I discovered it, a lady started banging on the door because her son was about to pee his pants. I'm still pretty mad at her, and am making a mental note never to bang on a bathroom door, because you don't know if there is a lady in there who has suffered two miscarriages and took six months to get pregnant again discovering dark blood in her underwear.
Anyway, I called our new OB-GYN, Dr. W., and his office was so incredible, so adept at handling my nervousness. They fit me in RIGHT AWAY, and I chucked Chebbles in the car ("Say goodbye to Gymboree! RIGHT NOW.") and drove down there as carefully as I could. Chebbles sat on my lap while he administered an ultrasound. At first she was excited because she saw the ultrasound monitor and said, "Thomas!", thinking we were going to watch some Thomas the Tank Engine videos.
I told her that no, we were going to look at some pictures live from Mama's popo. That was pretty exciting too. And the most exciting part was that the gestational sac was sitting in the right place, and it even seemed to have a speck inside of it, a little embryo speck.
So all good news for now, but I would like to have some reassuring symptoms, please.
It's also interesting how no one says "congratulations" yet. I don't want anyone to say congratulations, so it's a nice confluence of events.
Yesterday I had some dark bleeding while The Chebs and I were at Gymboree. A moment after I discovered it, a lady started banging on the door because her son was about to pee his pants. I'm still pretty mad at her, and am making a mental note never to bang on a bathroom door, because you don't know if there is a lady in there who has suffered two miscarriages and took six months to get pregnant again discovering dark blood in her underwear.
Anyway, I called our new OB-GYN, Dr. W., and his office was so incredible, so adept at handling my nervousness. They fit me in RIGHT AWAY, and I chucked Chebbles in the car ("Say goodbye to Gymboree! RIGHT NOW.") and drove down there as carefully as I could. Chebbles sat on my lap while he administered an ultrasound. At first she was excited because she saw the ultrasound monitor and said, "Thomas!", thinking we were going to watch some Thomas the Tank Engine videos.
I told her that no, we were going to look at some pictures live from Mama's popo. That was pretty exciting too. And the most exciting part was that the gestational sac was sitting in the right place, and it even seemed to have a speck inside of it, a little embryo speck.
So all good news for now, but I would like to have some reassuring symptoms, please.
Fantasy Pregnancy
One piece of advice I've read is that women who are experiencing high anxiety pregnancies should map out their dream pregnancy -- what would be the best possible experience?
Well, I'll tell you.
First, I'll go to tomorrow's ultrasound, and the doctor will exclaim with delight as she sees either one perfectly formed gestational sac in there, or maybe even twins!
They will test my beta numbers, and they will be sky high, dividing like crazy.
I will be having one boy or twin boys, because, in this fantasy, I do not become nauseated when I am pregnant with boys. And Hub-D will have his wee football playerI may be a little tired, but otherwise I'll feel OK, and Chebbles and I can keep up our active, fun life, and we can eat nutritious foods together and have some good laughs.
I will grow big and round, but not extremely rotund -- it will be manageable. And Hub-D will get me a $1000 gift certificate to a "Motherhood" store, where I will go positively insane buying fun new maternity outfits, because, after all, I'm pregnant in different seasons than I was with Chebbles.
They will do the nuchal fold test on the earliest day possible, and it will be conclusively negative for any signs of Down's. Then I will be treated to weekly ultrasounds, up to and through the day we conclusively find out the gender(s), and I will feel the baby (or babies) kicking like crazy all of the time, which will be fun and reassuring.
Chebbles will get more excited about having a baby brother or sister, and we'll talk about it all of the time. She and Hub-D will delight in feeling the little kicks emanating from my belly.
I will go into labor naturally and on my due date, and it will be so surprisingly quick! Any child who issues forth from my body will score a solid TEN on the Apgar test, and did I mention they'll come out laughing?
I'll stay in the hospital as long as I'm allowed, stretching it until the last possible second, then we'll all drive home together, clucking and cooing to the latest Music Together CD.
Oh, and THEN I get pregnant shortly thereafter, with an even EASIER pregnancy, just so you know.
Well, I'll tell you.
First, I'll go to tomorrow's ultrasound, and the doctor will exclaim with delight as she sees either one perfectly formed gestational sac in there, or maybe even twins!
They will test my beta numbers, and they will be sky high, dividing like crazy.
I will be having one boy or twin boys, because, in this fantasy, I do not become nauseated when I am pregnant with boys. And Hub-D will have his wee football playerI may be a little tired, but otherwise I'll feel OK, and Chebbles and I can keep up our active, fun life, and we can eat nutritious foods together and have some good laughs.
I will grow big and round, but not extremely rotund -- it will be manageable. And Hub-D will get me a $1000 gift certificate to a "Motherhood" store, where I will go positively insane buying fun new maternity outfits, because, after all, I'm pregnant in different seasons than I was with Chebbles.
They will do the nuchal fold test on the earliest day possible, and it will be conclusively negative for any signs of Down's. Then I will be treated to weekly ultrasounds, up to and through the day we conclusively find out the gender(s), and I will feel the baby (or babies) kicking like crazy all of the time, which will be fun and reassuring.
Chebbles will get more excited about having a baby brother or sister, and we'll talk about it all of the time. She and Hub-D will delight in feeling the little kicks emanating from my belly.
I will go into labor naturally and on my due date, and it will be so surprisingly quick! Any child who issues forth from my body will score a solid TEN on the Apgar test, and did I mention they'll come out laughing?
I'll stay in the hospital as long as I'm allowed, stretching it until the last possible second, then we'll all drive home together, clucking and cooing to the latest Music Together CD.
Oh, and THEN I get pregnant shortly thereafter, with an even EASIER pregnancy, just so you know.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Will you dance?
It's a comfort to know that so many other women who have experienced miscarriages also experience this sky-high level of anxiety surrounding a subsequent pregnancy.
I found this article about this peculiar anxiety, and it made me feel somewhat better.
So I'm not the only woman who interprets every tiny twinge of her body as a potential miscarriage. I'm not the only one who runs to the bathroom with such regularity, certain of seeing the telltale "red streak."
I bet I get double anxiety points because I had two distinct miscarriages following the birth of Chebbles. The first was my "chemical pregnancy," at 5w3d, the second was my mysterious "normal girl" who died at 8w3d, and was discovered as such at a nighmarish 10w3d.
So when can I relax?
Probably never. OK.
So instead, I secretly cherish the joy of this pregnancy. I haven't told a soul, other than our doctor, my grief counselor, and Hub-D. And I spend a lot of time pretending I'm not pregnant. I'm happiest that way -- where I have the vague sense that I'm happy about something, but I don't really FOCUS on it.
It's like in middle school, when the boy I had a crush on would enter the room -- I could feel his presence, and I followed him in my peripheral vision, all the while pretending that I didn't care. That's precisely what I'm doing now. I'm thrilled that my new baby is "in the room," but I'm not giving this pregnancy the focus I have with the others.
If it wants to continue, and turn into a big, whole baby, I will love him or her for the rest of my life with every cell in my being. And if it wants to quit this whole business early, clocking out at 5w3d, 8w3d, or whenever -- I'll still love it for the rest of my life.
I just want to protect myself from the massive heartbreak I experienced.
I had dedicated my whole life to caring for that last pregnancy, ignoring my extant child, letting everything in my life go absolutely to hell while I obsessed over every aspect of that particular pregnancy after miscarriage. And it didn't help. The baby still died.
So for now, we're just going to mind our own business as much as possible, this new baby and I. He or she will continue to divide its darling little cells, and I'll continue to goof off with Chebbles and grocery shop and kind of let the new baby do whatever it wants.
So, the truth be told, in middle school, when I was ignoring that boy I liked so much, I wanted nothing more than for him to come up to me, hug me tight and kiss me full on the lips, then probably drop to one knee and ask me to marry him. Then maybe he would lift me up and carry me out of the room like Richard Gere in "An Officer And A Gentleman."
The same goes for this new baby. I want this child to grow massive like his/her sister did, then soldier through birth along with me, slipping straight out of me in one great push. Then the child will grow tall and funny like his/her parents. And one day, in middle school, they will approach the person on whom they have a crush, and ask that person to dance.
I found this article about this peculiar anxiety, and it made me feel somewhat better.
So I'm not the only woman who interprets every tiny twinge of her body as a potential miscarriage. I'm not the only one who runs to the bathroom with such regularity, certain of seeing the telltale "red streak."
I bet I get double anxiety points because I had two distinct miscarriages following the birth of Chebbles. The first was my "chemical pregnancy," at 5w3d, the second was my mysterious "normal girl" who died at 8w3d, and was discovered as such at a nighmarish 10w3d.
So when can I relax?
Probably never. OK.
So instead, I secretly cherish the joy of this pregnancy. I haven't told a soul, other than our doctor, my grief counselor, and Hub-D. And I spend a lot of time pretending I'm not pregnant. I'm happiest that way -- where I have the vague sense that I'm happy about something, but I don't really FOCUS on it.
It's like in middle school, when the boy I had a crush on would enter the room -- I could feel his presence, and I followed him in my peripheral vision, all the while pretending that I didn't care. That's precisely what I'm doing now. I'm thrilled that my new baby is "in the room," but I'm not giving this pregnancy the focus I have with the others.
If it wants to continue, and turn into a big, whole baby, I will love him or her for the rest of my life with every cell in my being. And if it wants to quit this whole business early, clocking out at 5w3d, 8w3d, or whenever -- I'll still love it for the rest of my life.
I just want to protect myself from the massive heartbreak I experienced.
I had dedicated my whole life to caring for that last pregnancy, ignoring my extant child, letting everything in my life go absolutely to hell while I obsessed over every aspect of that particular pregnancy after miscarriage. And it didn't help. The baby still died.
So for now, we're just going to mind our own business as much as possible, this new baby and I. He or she will continue to divide its darling little cells, and I'll continue to goof off with Chebbles and grocery shop and kind of let the new baby do whatever it wants.
So, the truth be told, in middle school, when I was ignoring that boy I liked so much, I wanted nothing more than for him to come up to me, hug me tight and kiss me full on the lips, then probably drop to one knee and ask me to marry him. Then maybe he would lift me up and carry me out of the room like Richard Gere in "An Officer And A Gentleman."
The same goes for this new baby. I want this child to grow massive like his/her sister did, then soldier through birth along with me, slipping straight out of me in one great push. Then the child will grow tall and funny like his/her parents. And one day, in middle school, they will approach the person on whom they have a crush, and ask that person to dance.
The Day After
I found out I was pregnant yesterday, or rather, I am pregnant as of this moment. This is one of he most nervewracking experiences of my life.
In my calmer moments, I'm thinking of this time as a seven week course in patience and fortitude. I'm learning that I don't have control of this situation, and if I can just make it to twelve weeks with a normal pregnancy, I will have passed the course.
In my less calm moments, I think, "AAAH! My body is out of my control! Am I bleeding? Am I bleeding? Am I bleeding? What was that? Was that a cramp? That was definitely a cramp. Am I bleeding with cramps? Is this the end? Will all of my pregnancies end in miscarriage? What's wrong with me? "
I worry that I have too much energy. I don't really feel nauseated or tired or any of the symptoms I experienced with my pregnancy with Chebbles at this point, I think? No wait, I remember bragging at the outset that I didn't feel nauseated with her, which I paid for (in SPADES) later. But one thing that distinguished my June miscarriage was that I never felt pregnant, never felt exhausted, and, in fact, had a strange burst of energy.
So yesterday, when I was horsing around with Chebbles, she was shrieking with laughter and we were having this nice moment in the backyard when I stopped, and seized up with paralyzed worry... Oh Christ, I thought, I am not acting pregnant right now.
My pregnancy with Chebbles and my December pregnancy (the second miscarriage, with the D&C at 10.5 weeks) were notable by how awful they made me feel. They both ruined separate Christmasses because I was so wrought with barfing, nausea and exhaustion. My house turned into a junk pit and I was attached to the sofa the entire time. During my December pregnancy, I spent the whole time begging people to take my child elsewhere so I could marinate in the awful pregnancy in peace.
I had a terrible time grocery shopping during those pregnancies -- the grocery store devolved into a panoply of disgusting odors. Even shopping ONLINE grossed me out -- just the suggestion of all of those various foods skeeved me to the core.
But I'm OK so far with this pregnancy, which is yet another things to worry about.
I try to be happy about the pregnancy, and I am. We tried for six months to get pregnant, and I was worried that we wouldn't even have a pregnancy to lose this time around. So we are pregnant, and it feels good so far -- I feel like there really is a child on his way to us. But it also feels terrifying from moment to moment. If I lose this one, I turn into a three-time loser, and I will be even more bitter and bereft.
Stick around, kid. Stay in there, grow strong and hearty and join your sister, who is now rolling around in her crib, waiting to be joined in her merriment. You're going to like her, too. I want to meet you, baby, stay put, be healthy, and don't you dare come out until you're fully baked.
In my calmer moments, I'm thinking of this time as a seven week course in patience and fortitude. I'm learning that I don't have control of this situation, and if I can just make it to twelve weeks with a normal pregnancy, I will have passed the course.
In my less calm moments, I think, "AAAH! My body is out of my control! Am I bleeding? Am I bleeding? Am I bleeding? What was that? Was that a cramp? That was definitely a cramp. Am I bleeding with cramps? Is this the end? Will all of my pregnancies end in miscarriage? What's wrong with me? "
I worry that I have too much energy. I don't really feel nauseated or tired or any of the symptoms I experienced with my pregnancy with Chebbles at this point, I think? No wait, I remember bragging at the outset that I didn't feel nauseated with her, which I paid for (in SPADES) later. But one thing that distinguished my June miscarriage was that I never felt pregnant, never felt exhausted, and, in fact, had a strange burst of energy.
So yesterday, when I was horsing around with Chebbles, she was shrieking with laughter and we were having this nice moment in the backyard when I stopped, and seized up with paralyzed worry... Oh Christ, I thought, I am not acting pregnant right now.
My pregnancy with Chebbles and my December pregnancy (the second miscarriage, with the D&C at 10.5 weeks) were notable by how awful they made me feel. They both ruined separate Christmasses because I was so wrought with barfing, nausea and exhaustion. My house turned into a junk pit and I was attached to the sofa the entire time. During my December pregnancy, I spent the whole time begging people to take my child elsewhere so I could marinate in the awful pregnancy in peace.
I had a terrible time grocery shopping during those pregnancies -- the grocery store devolved into a panoply of disgusting odors. Even shopping ONLINE grossed me out -- just the suggestion of all of those various foods skeeved me to the core.
But I'm OK so far with this pregnancy, which is yet another things to worry about.
I try to be happy about the pregnancy, and I am. We tried for six months to get pregnant, and I was worried that we wouldn't even have a pregnancy to lose this time around. So we are pregnant, and it feels good so far -- I feel like there really is a child on his way to us. But it also feels terrifying from moment to moment. If I lose this one, I turn into a three-time loser, and I will be even more bitter and bereft.
Stick around, kid. Stay in there, grow strong and hearty and join your sister, who is now rolling around in her crib, waiting to be joined in her merriment. You're going to like her, too. I want to meet you, baby, stay put, be healthy, and don't you dare come out until you're fully baked.
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