Panic in my Uterus

Fair warning: I'm going to be a pain in the ASS for the rest of this pregnancy. I'm something of a hypochondriac, an avid worrier, and I've had three miscarriages. So, every little twitch, pain, or hour spent without pregnancy symptoms results in absolute panic on my part.

Last Wednesday afternoon I was convinced that I had a bladder infection and some foreboding abdominal pain. I spent three hours in urgent care only to be told by the doctor that there was no infection. As for the pain? Well, he didn't know. A simple trip to the lab could have confirmed the lack of infection, but I just HAD to see a doctor about this very minor pain. Since the medical branch in my new area doesn't have an OB on call for urgent care, it was pointless. But, I couldn't not go. What if something was horribly wrong?

I came home tired, frustrated, and also slightly pleased that I was able to finish my book during my long stay in the waiting room. I told myself that since there was no infection and the pain had stopped, I would tough it out until my appointment with my doctor on Monday.

But Thursday, after running around with Charlotte all morning I came home and started feeling the pain again. And, this time it was worse. I panicked. Texted Chris. And then I did what I always do: I complain to L until she offers to Google for me. She is an expert Googler, and this way I don't have to be exposed to all the horrible possibilities Google has to offer. L filters them out for me. Her diagnosis? Round ligament pain. But, we both agreed I should call the doctor just to ease my mind. I did, and miraculously, they were able to fit me in that afternoon! I rushed down there to see my doctor. Her diagnosis?

Round ligament pain.

I felt so stupid. But, then I got to see my little baby on the ultrasound. And the first thing we saw when my doctor focused in on him/her was this:
It took five days to get this stupid picture up, and it STILL isn't rotated the right direction. I blame my crappy PC and lack of access to our Mac.

The baby waved! I mean, look, I'm not an idiot. I know the baby wasn't trying to be all, "What's up, Mom?" but you should have seen it. A tiny arm raised up and then waved back and forth. It was just one of those funny coincidences, but it made my whole day. I drove home grinning.
Here he/she is just hanging out.

I should have known better. I should have remembered that these little aches and pains are normal and just sat tight until my next appointment. But, I may never be able to do that. It's so hard not to portend doom every time something feels different or even a little strange. Sometimes it feels like everything going well until I actually have this baby in my arms is just an impossible dream.

But then my baby waved at me. And kicked and squirmed and showed off its stellar heart rate. And I think that maybe this kid is going to be tough like its sister and go the distance.

Just for fun, here's Charlotte eating a cupcake. Fun for whom, you ask? Me! Especially since I didn't have to clean her up after this took place.

And, We're Back

Wow. It's been a month since my last post. I think that's probably a new record for me, but then again, it's me, so maybe not.

Since I last left you, Chris and I packed up our two-bedroom townhouse and moved into his parents' house. It was...not fun. Each time we move, I swear that it will be the last time we procrastinate to the point of "Just throw it in a trash bag, and we'll sort it out later," but we never do. And, of course, it was also challenging to move from a two-bedroom townhouse to two rooms, period. We had to pack what we needed separately from what we would be storing. So, it was challenging. Moving is challenging. Moving with a toddler is challenging. Moving while pregnant is challenging.

Like how I just slipped that in there?

In case you missed it, I'm pregnant. I've known I was pregnant for over a month now. Needless to say I was not much of an asset when it came to our move. If I wasn't napping, I was trying not to throw up. Or I was trying to figure out what to eat for my third dinner, because even as I have been nauseous beyond belief, I have also been starving every couple hours. I think in the end, I probably contributed about 30% to the move, which left my poor husband and our families to pick up the slack. And, because I am am very, very lucky, everyone has been really understanding.

Especially if you know my history, you might be wondering how far along I am. Most everyone I have told in person has looked momentarily delighted, then a look of realization sweeps over their face, and they cautiously venture, "How far along are you?" It was harder to answer when I was five or six weeks along, and it is only slightly easier now to tell you that I am just shy of ten weeks pregnant. I am currently further along than I was during any of my miscarriages, so big thumbs up there. But, it would be great to be twelve or fourteen or any of the numbers that are meant to offer you SOME reassurance. Still, we went to our first ultrasound last week, and everything looked really good. I'm still feeling sick and tired, which is hellish, but reassuring.

I know that with every passing week Chris and I feel more at ease, but we're both sort of expecting the worst at any given moment. Or, rather, he is expecting the worst, and I just try to prepare for it. Because I can't say I expect things to go wrong. In fact, I feel almost strangely confident that they won't. I've mostly been really at peace with this pregnancy. Occasionally I am gripped with fear when I let myself wonder how I will deal with another loss, but it's rare. I suppose this Zen-like demeanor is my defense mechanism, and I have to say it has been helpful.

I'm sitting here in Starbucks wearing maternity clothes, which is comically unnecessary, but also stupidly comfortable, of which I am highly in favor. I suppose the maternity shirt is a bit much, but I needed something long enough to cover the tell-tale maternity band, since I don't look pregnant and don't exactly want to advertise my premature proclivity for elastic waistbands. I would like to believe that it's true about showing sooner with subsequent pregnancies, but I have to say I am rather convinced it's the third dinners that are to blame. This is also why you will not be seeing any adorable "belly pictures" from me for a loooooooong time. Not until the girth more closely matches the level of pregnancy, at least.

And now that we've gotten that out of the way, what you might really be dying to know is how we are coping with our new living arrangements. Or maybe you don't care, but I'm going to tell you anyway. I can't speak for my in-laws, but the rest of us are adjusting well. Chris is tired from the extra time on his commute, but otherwise, he has no complaints. Charlotte is in heaven. She literally RUNS all over their large house, which is a vast improvement on running in circles around our tiny couch. She goes in the backyard every day, as many times as she can. And I'm already noticing her getting more comfortable, not just with her grandparents, but with adults in general. My theory is that it is less of a shock to her now to have people other than her parents around. She was pretty isolated before, and I feel like this is already proving to be good for her. Plus, she's sleeping well, is generally happy, and doesn't appear to be struggling with the change at all. In fact, when we left our apartment for the last time, we told her to say goodbye to it. She cheerfully said "Bye!" and then in a different voice she said (as the apartment) "Bye! I hope you don't want me anymore!"

As for me, I am adjusting well, though perhaps the least so of the three of us. I blame my anxiety above all. It's easier for my husband because they are HIS parents, so he's used to pissing them off. I, on the other hand, run around like a crazy person trying to make sure I have cleaned up any trace of my presence there. I am insecure about how I am ALWAYS there because I don't feel well enough to get out of the house much. I try to do little things whenever I see an opportunity, like emptying the dishwasher or finishing laundry that my mother-in-law started, but left the house before finishing. That last one has happened once, and probably won't happen again because Stephanie is like a MASTER housekeeper. She has a full-time job, and still manages to keep her house cleaner than I ever did, even when I was unemployed AND childless. But, it's important for me to note that my anxiety is just that: anxiety. It comes from me. My in-laws have never made me feel anything less than welcome and nothing like a burden, even if that isn't actually how they feel.

It's been a week. Hardly enough time for any major disasters to occur, but it's also hard to imagine any such disaster when you are in the hands of such generous people with whom you get along so well. Does it sound like I'm sucking up? If it does, well, they DO read my blog, you know. And I might be needing some free babysitting soon. Oh! Which reminds me! The babysitting! We've been back in our hometown a week, and have already seen a movie, courtesy of my mom's babysitting and gone out to dinner last night when my mother-in-law spontaneously offered (We were out the door so fast...) This alone makes the transition worth it.

And, with that, I leave you with a picture of my new haircut. It's a crappy cell phone picture which many of you already saw on Twitter. And my hair is flat in it because of the rain, but it's the only one I have. There aren't many picture opportunities when you are lounging around the house all day invading your father-in-law's space after he gets home from a long day of work. Though I suppose I'd have someone to snap the picture...

That Totally Average Day I Bought Condoms

Today was a sort of dull, average day. But it was a good day. It was the first day in a couple weeks that my body seemed back to normal after everything it's been through. I found some sunglasses of the not-giant variety (Seriously, ladies. Must our sunglasses cover our entire face? When is this trend going to die?) Of course, the sunglasses would be a bigger triumph if they were prescription lenses that didn't make all road signs vaguely out of focus. But, those would have cost me a lot more than ten bucks. And, according to the DMV I don't need corrective lenses to drive. So, I probably won't crash my car into the side of a mountain. Probably.

We took Charlotte to the pool this evening, which is sort of hilarious, if not maddening. See, she likes to be in the "big pool" instead of the foot and a half wading pool, which would be fine, except she doesn't want to be held. So, it's a lot of her "swimming" back and forth on the stairs while I walk alongside her with my hands at the ready to catch her when she falls or when she decides surely all this practice has been sufficient and she can swim the length of the pool by now. She's really interested in putting her face in the water and does it over and over again even after sputtering and coughing up pool water after each attempt. Kid's got moxy. What can I say?

But, I suppose the highlight of my day was at Target when I had to take care of our brand new "No Babies for Three Months" situation. It doesn't make sense to use anything hormonal since we'll be trying again soon, so that left...well, condoms. I don't know why I'm so squeamish about condoms. Maybe because in the twelve years we've been together, we haven't really needed them. And, the few times we have, Chris was always the one to get them. He was more than willing to do it this time, but I was already going to the store. Why not get them myself? It would be silly to make him do it.

So, I stood in front of the different varieties for what seemed like a very long time. I was quite surprised at how many options the condom user is offered: ribbed, of course, that's nothing new. But, did you know they make condoms that can offer you a hot and/or cold sensation? I don't even know how that works! Or if it's something people would want. I do have to say that there seem to be quite a few of these gimmicks designed to help the ladies out, IF you know what I mean...

In the end, however, I settled on the most very basic pack I could find. Mainly because I was clearly in way over my head when it came to this decision-making process, but also because I was painfully aware of the woman and her two children standing mere inches from me while waiting to talk to the pharmacist. For whatever reason, I was embarrassed. And, I felt like I was doing something sinister. Like, here I am perusing prophylactics, while these poor, innocent children are just trying to get their cough medicine, and surely I am offending their very innocence with my proximity. I felt like telling their mother, "You know, I'm not buying these to have casual sex with a random stranger. I'm married, and we have a kid, and we want another one, but my doctor said I have to wait three months on account of my two miscarriages." Am I an idiot, or what? This chick probably didn't even notice what I was shopping for and probably wouldn't have cared.

This summer is going to be interesting. I think, impatient as I am to get started on expanding our family, it is going to be really nice to spend these next few months just enjoying my family and enjoying the freedom of not either trying to conceive, being pregnant, or nursing for the first time in over five years. I can drink a venti iced coffee with no guilt! I can hike and have a second glass of wine. Did I say "second?" I meant third.

It's bittersweet, to be sure. There are constant reminders of the milestones I would have been reaching had either of these pregnancies stuck. Yesterday Charlotte inexplicably pointed to my belly and asked "Where's your baby?" I honestly can't figure out how that happened since we weren't discussing it with her, but I guess we underestimated her capacity for understanding our discussions with one another. So, it's still difficult, and even though I'm riding the silver lining pretty hard, I'm not able to completely shut out the pain.

But, life is good.

Very, very good.

Well, This is Getting Redundant

So, yeah. That pregnancy I was so excited about in my last post? Turns out, not so much.

If you read this blog, chances are you heard this news on Twitter or Facebook when it happened last week. Because of that I was almost tempted to just skip writing about it. Everybody knows. Let's just move on. And yet, here I am.

I think we're fine. Chris is performing his usual role of making sure I'm taken care of, perhaps in the process ignoring his own pain. We talk about it a little. We're both angry. We're both sad. I'm worried about being able to have another baby. Chris either isn't worried or is pretending not to be for my sake. I try not to dwell on all the energy we put into this pregnancy. All the fear, the worry, the bleeding, the countless trips to the doctor, to urgent care, even the ER. If I think of the time, energy, money, and especially all the hope we put into this pregnancy I start to feel sorry for myself. And I get whiny. And, I suppose it's okay to whine about something like this for a little while, but I need to do what I didn't do last time. I need to move on. I need to heal.

I knew it was careless to try and get pregnant so quickly after the last miscarriage. I knew not giving ourselves time to properly grieve before we were right back where we started would be immeasurably hard. But, I also didn't really think I would have two miscarriages in a row. I arrogantly assumed the miscarriage had been a fluke, and even though I knew it was POSSIBLE to lose this pregnancy, too, I have to admit, I didn't think it was probable.

When I went to urgent care a week ago with some spotting, I hoped the outcome would be the same as all the other trips to a doctor, post-bleeding. It wasn't. She couldn't find a heartbeat, but told me her machine was really sub-standard. It had a low resolution and didn't always pick up the heartbeat. She told me to see my doctor the next day. My doctor wasn't available. But, guess who was! If you guessed "The Really Horrible Doctor from Last Time Who Shouldn't Be Allowed Anywhere Near Pregnant Women" you are correct!

Now, I will say this about him: after careful examination, I don't think he is TRYING to be horrible. I think he's just been doing this way too long and maybe needs some updated sensitivity training. Or to retire. But that doesn't make it any less traumatic when, after trying in vain to locate the heartbeat (and, bless him, he TRIED) he squints hard while looking into the monitor and says, "I don't think this baby is alive!" And then says it about four more times. He also said something to the effect of "Don't shoot the messenger." Many of you will be pleased to know I have decided to file a complaint.

So, what's next? Well, my doctor is ordering a test to be done in a few weeks which will determine whether or not I have a blood-clotting disorder that could be causing miscarriages. My progesterone was on the low side this time, so I'm sure we will be monitoring that the next time I find myself pregnant. Basically, the plan is to work with my doctor this time in planning and achieving a healthy pregnancy when my body has healed, rather than sneaking behind her back and trying to get knocked up in a few weeks.

I don't know if my body not being properly healed from the last miscarriage had anything to do with this one. And, really, it doesn't matter. What matters to me most this time is that I give us all time to heal emotionally. I think my family needs and deserves some time to enjoy our wonderful lives without countless trips to the doctor and a ton of anxiety. we might find ourselves there again someday, but right now I want to play with my daughter without worrying if I missed a phone call from a doctor. I want to have some conversations with my husband that don't begin with him asking me how much I've been spotting lately. I want to go to my sister's wedding next month and dance and drink champagne without silently panicking about my boobs not feeling sore enough or not having enough nausea.

I want to thank everyone for all the support. I know this has been exhausting for those of us living it, but also for those of you who have rejoiced and mourned with us twice now in such a short period of time. I promise not to put you through this again. For a few months, at least...

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.

Coming Around

Today is the first day of one of my many new beginnings. This past month has been difficult. The miscarriage took more of a toll on me than I expected. I think because in my life everything looks good on paper, and because I can't find any tangible thing to complain about, I feel confused when I'm sad. Because intellectually, I'm happy. I have an amazing daughter. A husband so good I couldn't possibly deserve him. Wonderful family and friends. Money is tight, but then again, we can pay the bills, and I know what a big deal that is right now. I should be happy. And, most of the time, I am.

But, then there's the sadness. No matter how much I am enjoying playing with Charlotte or laughing with Chris, there is this sadness permeating my thoughts. It can strike at any time, seemingly out of nowhere. It causes me to react with bitterness and jealousy to situations I would otherwise be celebrating, like, of course, pregnancies, ultrasounds, and births.

I think more than anything else, my inability to see a post about morning sickness or view a picture of a positive pregnancy test without going to a very dark place is most troubling. The first couple weeks, I cut myself some slack. But, now that I am still finding myself terrified to turn on the computer lest I be affronted with more pregnancy news, I am starting to wonder how long this will last. I don't like this side of me. It feels...weak and immature. It made more sense before I had Charlotte, when I didn't know if I would ever be a parent, to react like this. I assumed it would be different this time around.

A few weeks ago I had a follow up appointment with my OB to make sure my body is healing properly from the miscarriage. Seeing the ultrasound machine set up in the exam room, and knowing there wasn't even the slightest bit of hope that I would see that elusive flickering heartbeat on the screen was disheartening, to say the least. But, the hardest part of that day was when I was in my private room waiting for the doctor, and I realized that the muted thumping I was hearing was a fetal heart monitor from another room. A sound that would have faded into the background had I been in that room under different circumstances, was deafening to me now. I couldn't stop hearing it, and I couldn't stop thinking about how we would never hear this baby's heartbeat. This baby was already gone from my body, not a part of me anymore. And, I just couldn't hear it. So, I covered my ears like a petulant child being scolded until I heard the doctor knock on the door.

So, it's been hard. And the sadness has been keeping me from living my life the way I normally do. I've been falling WAY behind on housework, eating too much, drinking too much, practically disappearing from social media (I know, what a tragedy,)and all but abandoning my already-neglected blog.

And that is why today is my new beginning. Maybe I'm starting to feel better, maybe I just realized enough is enough; I don't really know. But, today is the day I have decided will be the beginning of my return to normalcy. I've resolved to update my blog once a week. I would love to do more, but that just doesn't seem possible right now. Especially since I am still hoping to do some other types of writing. Today I will eat my vegetables and flaxseed and leave the cookies in the cupboard. Today I have already cleaned and done laundry, thus starting the process of getting our apartment clean again. Today I am a little better than yesterday and a lot better than I was a month ago.

This isn't the first time I've cut my losses and decided to begin again, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Here's hoping I can make it work.