Here we Go Again...

First of all I just want to thank everyone for your comments on Charlotte’s birthday post. I feel terrible that I never responded to those of you who said such nice things about me and my daughter. It was greatly appreciated. I’ve been sucking at a lot of things lately: blogging, cleaning, remembering stuff. So, basically, things are no different than usual, except this time I have an excuse!

I’m pregnant. Eight weeks pregnant. Which means I got pregnant approximately two weeks after my miscarriage. Oh, and I totally did this on purpose. Which makes me kind of crazy. Though, I do want to clarify that Chris was in on it, too. I might be crazy, but I’m not “Trick My Husband into Getting Me Pregnant” crazy.

The reason I say that I’m crazy is that although it seemed at the time that the only thing to do was to get pregnant immediately as though it would somehow erase the pain of the miscarriage, it turned out that as soon as I saw the test I was filled with dread. I was thrilled, sure. But I instantly realized how badly I wanted this pregnancy to work and how completely pulverized I would be if I lost this baby, too. My anxiety was unbearable.

And then, just to really test me, my body started acting like an asshole. A week or two after I discovered I was pregnant, I started bleeding. I don’t mean spotting. I mean BLEEDING. So, I went to the emergency room with my husband, daughter, and the complete and utter certainty that I was having another miscarriage. I couldn’t even cry. I was too numb and a little busy internally yelling at myself for putting us all through this again. And almost no one knew I was pregnant, so I was also trying to figure out if I could keep it to myself this time or if I would run blubbering to my mom, effectively blindsiding her.

After three hours of waiting in a hospital bed while Chris played with Charlotte in the waiting room, an ultrasound, some blood work, and a LOT of boredom, I left the hospital that day knowing very little. It was too early to see anything on the ultrasound, but my HCG levels were still rising, meaning that I probably wasn’t having a miscarriage…yet. No one knew why I was bleeding, but since the bleeding had stopped and because something similar happened when I was pregnant with Charlotte, I held on to hope.

The weeks that followed brought spotting, multiple blood draws, several ultrasounds, a prescription for progesterone suppositories, another trip to Urgent Care, more bleeding, an explanation for the bleeding, and a lot more worrying. And yet, everything keeps progressing normally. I saw the baby’s heartbeat at six weeks, again at seven, and again last Friday at nearly eight weeks. I’ve started feeling nauseous, which was a huge relief to me. I mean, gross and annoying, but also reassuring.

I think at this point, I am pretty optimistic. I’m scared, and also totally prepared for the possibility of having another miscarriage. But, I also feel like this could be it. The one that sticks. Our next baby. And I’m (cautiously) pretty psyched about that. We haven’t really discussed it with Charlotte yet. She won’t understand it, I’m sure, but I do want to start preparing her soon. I think of all people I’m scared to tell her. Not because I’m worried about it upsetting her if something goes wrong; I’m sure she’d move on with no problem. It’s because the few times she would ask about the baby in my belly before she understood that it was gone, would kill me. I hate having to think of things like that, but I can hardly help it anymore.

On to the lighter side! I mentioned I was nauseous. It isn’t too awful yet. I haven’t actually thrown up; I just feel varying degrees of queasy all day, and it seems to get a little worse at night. I can eat. In fact I eat all the time. But, I am extremely specific about what I want. And what I want is rarely good for me. What is it about pregnancy that makes us want to eat crap? I honestly can’t remember the time I ate a vegetable, and that is NOT me. I usually love my veggies, but right now they sound disgusting. I bought a big bag of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups and threw the whole thing in the freezer. Chris pulled it out and said, “What the hell…oh, right. You’re pregnant.” I want burgers and fries and garlic bread and cookies. I’m trying to be good and not give in to the cravings, especially since I am going in to this pregnancy about fifteen pounds over my comfort level as it is. But, it is NOT easy, lemme tell ya’.

So, there you have it. I’m an insane person who will either have a beautiful baby in November or…not. So, keep your fingers crossed for the former.