who would have thought that
16 millimeters could
make someone so sick
The short answer is: After 22 months, a radioactive dye thing, a threat of an "exploratory" laparoscopy, 2 rounds of drugs, and one shot of hormones in the ass – I’m pregnant.
I don’t know whether to say Woo! or Whew! I kind of hate saying anything at all, to be honest. I know jinxes aren’t real and all that, but with my history of evil, ER-requiring miscarriage, it’s spooky to be in the first trimester. I feel crazy all the time. Scared, tired, weepy, queasy, I pee five times a night. I know much of it is hormones, but I can’t help thinking I’m exacerbating it with my general freakedoutedness.
I never thought I’d be this freaked out – especially after wanting it so badly for almost two years. Sure, I was fairly freaked when I got pregnant with the wee one (after two consecutive miscarriages), but now I am a complete and utter basket case. And this is AFTER we’ve seen an ultrasound of the little heartbeat and everything measured normally and it all looks good. I’m STILL being a nutcase about it all. I don’t want to tell people, I only feel marginally happy, I am FLIPPING OUT.
I can only hope that the flipping out goes away. Because I’ve wanted to have more kids for a very long time. The wee one is over the moon ecstatic about everything. He tells everyone that "MY baby is in mommy’s tummy" and he gives me little pats. It’s so sweet and wonderful and I feel terrible that I’m not really sharing in his blissed-out-ness. I want to be blissed out. I want to be excited. I want to plan a nursery and think of baby names. But right now it’s everything I can do to keep from have a mental breakdown every single day.
Possibly a lot of the drama right now is related to food and zits. I can’t eat. Everything is gross. It smells gross. It tastes gross. Even crackers and water make me want to hurl. All food disgusts me. So I am constantly hungry and queasy and dizzy. I’m sure this doesn’t help matters. And my face… well… let’s just say it’s hard to feel confident and happy when you look like you’re busting out with smallpox. I mean, seriously. I never had zits like this when I was pregnant before. Maybe it’s the stress.
And then there’s the guilt – the guilt that I’m making the wee one watch too much TV because I don’t have the energy to do anything. The guilt that I’m harming the Gestator because I’m scared shitless pretty much every waking moment. The guilt that my house looks like a pit. The guilt that I am being way too self-centered right now.
So now you know. And maybe by confessing my secret I’ll feel better. And if something bad happens I’ll have the Internet’s shoulders to cry on. And if something good happens, I’ll have you all to share it with.
And if I eat something I’ll feel better. Ditto with the sleeping.
I can’t believe I’m such a basket case. I can’t believe I’m pregnant.