....And It Continues

Without further ado, MAY!

5/3/2011

LADIES.  You have been lied to.  All those doctors and books and Hollywood movies that talk about “morning sickness” like it is just a passing nuisance are definitely involved in a conspiracy to get women to continue to have babies.  “Morning Sickness” does not exist.  “24/7 Sickfest” does .   You see, I was naïve and thought “okay, so for a few weeks I wake up, throw up, eat a cracker, and then get on with my day.”  AND THE UNIVERSE LAUGHED.  I now know that you wake up nauseous.  You are nauseous ALL DAY LONG.  There might be a small, 20 minute window where you feel like eating at all—that’s when I try to eat more whole days’ worth of calories—then it is back to Sickfest.  Outside that window, NOTHING sounds good.  Just thinking about food, even foods that I normally love, makes me sick.  Even the food that I ate last night—which I HAD TO HAVE—today makes me want to vom.  And crackers, ginger ale, sea-sick bands, you name it, I’ve tried it.  The only time I am not sick is when I am asleep and for about 10 minutes right after I wake up. 

Lots of people tell me, “oh, that’s a great sign, means the baby is healthy.”  Which is a little comforting, but of course the flip side of that is if the next day I do not feel as sick, I worry that it means something bad has happened.  It’s a vicious cycle.

I know in the previous post I was all “whatever it takes for a healthy baby.”  That’s still true, but I am exercising my right as a human incubator to complain about how unfair the “whatever” part has become.  I will have my revenge, though.  Someone is totally eating lots of strained peas and beets.

5/10/2011

The interwebs are a dangerous place for a paranoid pregnant lady like myself.  There is just too much information out there about “avoid this, don’t do that, don’t eat that OR YOUR BABY WILL DIE.”  Yikes.  I am pins-and-needles enough as it is, and now you tell me that the Subway I had last week might give my baby LISTERIA? 

There are good and bad side to the internet.  On the advice of many friends, I found a website that I liked with a message board community where other expectant moms can talk things out and support each other.  I like Babycenter.com more than some of the other sites.  This has helped in that I found a small group who have experienced an ectopic and another group for girls expecting in December who have had a previous loss.  These December babies are our “Rainbow Babies,” which I think is a great term for the miracle that has occurred after the darkest days.  I like these groups, but again they sometimes give me a lot to worry about.  Members drop out every now and then as they experience another loss.  They describe their experience, and then I compare everything I am feeling to that and start to FREAK OUT OH MY GOD.  I’ve stopped reading those posts—just for my own sanity.  It does give me a lot to pray about, however, both lifting up these women that are suffering and thanking God that today, I am still pregnant. 

AND THEN there are the women in the regular December Birth group that have never had a problem and are so cute and naïve like I once was.  Like asking for name opinions at 5 weeks pregnant.  Taking pictures of their stomachs because they are “showing at 6 weeks.”  All optimistic and cheery, believing that their whole pregnancy is going to be a walk in the park.  Oh, to be that person again.  To not worry at every cramp, over analyze whether your symptoms are less than yesterday and WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, to just be blissful and happy.  To be able to answer a simple question of “When are you due” with just “December” instead of “if all goes right, December.”

Kurt is threatening to turn off my internet until 14 weeks.  Maybe not the worst idea ever?

5/19/2011

What does early pregnancy feel like?  Imagine your worst hangover.  Like that one time in college when you went to the Jungle Juice party but it’s college so it was pure Hawkeye and you drank about half the cooler and then thought it was a good idea to go to the bar at 1AM for shots and then somehow made it home with a gyro in hand only to pass out on the second floor landing with your pants half off?  Remember the next morning?  When you puked so much that at one point you thought you saw your appendix come out and then proceeded to just lay on the floor for the next 6 hours just begging for death?  And friend offer you a wide range of supposed hangover foods—Jimmy Johns, McDs, burgers, etc—but the thought of each just sends you back in to the toilet stall?

Yeah, like that.  For about 10 weeks straight.

5/20/2011

If wearing maternity pants at 10 weeks is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. 

Most women want to stay in their tiny pants as long as possible.  Ladies, there is no award for making yourself pointlessly uncomfortable by shoving your bloated belly into your old pants.  LET IT GO.  Embrace the maternity pants.  Make out with them.  Let them get to second base.  Trust me, it’s worth it.

First, maternity fashions have come a long way in the past decade.  You can’t even tell what are or are not maternity pants unless you see the top.  So you can wear them undetected.  And you stomach will thank you.  The best part is there is no zipper or buttons, so you can pee in record time. 

I had to make the switch because my pants were already tight pre-pregnancy.  I admit freely that I gained about 12 pounds after losing the first baby.  I’m a mood eater.  I was working on losing them, but still had a few to go when I got the positive.  Then I started bloating like the Goodyear Blimp, so my tight pants were bye-bye till next year pants. 

Come on, this is your chance to be comfortable for once!  Relish it early and often.  I know I am!

Early Pregnancy Hysteria

So, I did blog back at the beginning of the pregnancy, but I did not post.  I wasn't ready to tell the world.  Then once I was ready, I realized that I was so anxious and worried that my posts were just not going to be entertaining at all.  So I stopped for awhile.

I feel like I am finally relaxed enough to write like my old self.  Roo is doing well, kicking and punching me at the same time, so I know baby is happy.

Below is what I had saved.  It's maybe one months worth, before I had to step away from writing for fear of just spinning my wheels on the same stuff.

BEHOLD, APRIL!

4/11/2011

Those Two Lines.

Excited, happy, terrified.  One of those things does not belong.

For most pregnant women, those two lines mean that you are going to have a baby—the best thing in the world.  You are excited, happy, and can’t wait to start your journey towards becoming a mother.  For a few of us who have suffered pregnancy losses, those two lines can stir other emotions.  Mixed in with the excitement and happiness is a little relief, lots of terror, and a healthy dose of fear.  You know that those two lines do no promise you that a baby will pop out in 9 months.  YOU KNOW.

A lot of people’s reaction to that is probably “Oh, you just need to THINK positive, and everything will be fine!” but I know all too well that positive thinking does not keep a baby in your belly.  For most women, the risks or chances of something going wrong are just a fleeting thought in the doctor’s office when they give you the mandatory run-down of all the ways this could go wrong.  Then you forget them and go on with your happy, healthy pregnancy.  When you’ve been through it, though, YOU KNOW.  YOU KNOW that a baby got stuck in your tubes, and could very well be stuck in the other one now.  YOU KNOW that nothing guarantees that this one will be a success and that in 9-10 months you will hold your child.  And YOU KNOW that it can happen to you.  Because it did.

I have never been so happy and so scared in my life.  The first time, I never considered that I would not be holding a baby in August.  Then my life changed.  As we struggled to conceive again, I thought that this would help me get past the pain of losing the first one.  And in my heart, it has.  But my head keeps reminding me that ectopic pregnancies are more likely once you’ve had one.  And that almost half of all women will have a miscarriage sometime in their life.  There are no rules that say “One and Done;” it could happen to me again just as much as it could happen to someone who has never suffered a miscarriage. 

How do you deal with those competing emotions?  How do you reconcile your belief in God’s Plan, and that you will have a baby when he means for you to, with the terror of what can happen?  Shouldn’t I not be scared because He will take care of me regardless?  To be honest, if I thought losing the first pregnancy was faith-shaking, I am in for a wild ride with the second one.  I am afraid to get my pregnancy books out of storage, I am afraid to start planning again, and I am afraid to believe that I will have a baby in December.

Despite all this, I AM hopeful—reserved, but hopeful.  I feel better than I did last time, no cramps hinting at a tragedy to come, my HcG levels were good yesterday (rechecking tomorrow), and I feel some symptoms, which I did not last time.  If I can just get past the first hurdle—ultrasound to make sure baby is in the right place—I feel I will be able to breathe a little easier.  Then we’ll take one day as it comes.

Oh, and let’s not pretend like I don’t spend 10 hours a day on Google looking up my HcG levels, development, symptoms, etc.  I might be terrified out of my mind, but I am still me and can’t let things be—I have to know what every little tic might be!

4/15/11

I’ve been pregnant for about 10 minutes and I’ve already spent about 485 hours online in baby forums, Mayo Clinic, and WebMD.  Every little cramp or twinge freaks me out.  This is going to be a long nine months.  Don’t worry, I’m mostly kidding.  And most of the cramps turn out to be gas.  Which is good news in this scenario.  Not good news for Kurt, but good news for me.

My “numbers” are good, though.  According to the Doc.  Not sure what numbers these are, maybe the lotto?  That’d make this whole baby thing a lot easier to afford. 

4/19/2011

How the bathroom becomes the most terrifying room in the house

When you suffer a pregnancy loss, the next pregnancy instantly sends you in the psycho paranoid mode.  You undulate back and forth for sheer excitement to sheer terror.  Every little twinge or cramp sends you off you rocker with worry and concern.  Trips to the bathroom become a nightmare.

When you’ve suffered a loss, you fear the bathroom.  That is where you likely got your first indication that the pregnancy was ending.  You cramped and went to the bathroom, only to discover blood.  I know that for many pregnancies, a little bit of spotting is perfectly okay.  And just because you are spotting this time does NOT mean you are miscarrying again.  But that does not stop you from running to the nearest bathroom any time you feel the slightest trickle.  You go, wipe, and inspect for the tiniest indication of trouble.  If you are like me, you convince yourself that the spot in your underwear is CLEARLY tinged pink, and proceed to freak out for the next few hours, expecting at any moment to discover the beginning of the end. 

That’s why I go to the bathroom so frequently.  Not because I have to pee (which most of the time I really do), but because I am so afraid that while I was typing this, that little cramp was my baby dying, again, and I need to check and see for sure.

Pregnancy after a loss is hard.  Some people, with much more confidence and faith than I, breeze through it, not letting the previous troubles affect them.  I am not those people.  I obsess.  I freak out.  I am CONSTANTLY VILIGANT on the baby front. 

Also, a confession: I am afraid to fall in love with this baby.  I just got so horribly burned last time when I fell head over heels the moment I peed on that stick, and then got my heart ripped out just like my tube.  Maybe after I see the ultrasound.  Maybe after I feel the baby’s movements.  Maybe not until I am holding my brand new baby in my arms.  Is that normal for second-tryers? 

4/22/2011

This baby hates dairy.  Which is a problem, because I LOVE dairy.  Cheese, yogurt, milk, ice cream—YUM YUM YUM!  It’s hard to get through the day without a piece of cheese or a yogurt.  And ice cream?  REALLY?  I can smell ice cream from a block away but I can’t have it.  Sad.  So far this baby seems to be doing its job of making me completely miserable!  I am nauseas alllll day, and healthy foods repulse me.  Don’t even talk to me about vegetables, HURL.  Toast is popular with me right now, and pasta.  Maybe a steak too.  Not really balanced!  I want to eat well, I really do, but most foods just make me want to gag.  So I do what I can, eat what my body will take, and make sure to take my prenatal vitamin and calcium supplement. 

But at the end of the day, whatever it takes for this to be a healthy, happy baby if fine by me.  I’ll be sick for 9 months.  I’ll give up dairy.  Anything it takes for me to hold my baby in December.

Coming soon, the May edition.

Update: The mandatory downer post

I am still struggling with The Loss and The Trying. It is hard to want something so bad but know that there is nothing you can do about it. I can’t study harder, practice more, or work faster. For now, there is nothing I can do but wait. It’s hard. It’s hard to wait each month, pray hard, but ultimately be disappointed that my body has failed me yet again. It’s hard to watch each month as friends experience the joys of pregnancy, especially those due around when I should have been, knowing that I should be experiencing those milestones along with them. It’s just plain hard. Women are supposed to have babies. And so far, I can’t. Last month was the worst—I got my official “no baby” notification on my freakin BIRTHDAY. And now for April, if it didn’t work this month, then I will not be a mother in 2011. I am dangerously close to not being a mother before I am 30. And I know these are arbitrary time frames, and the big picture is that who cares WHEN I do, just as long as I do. It still hard to see dreams you had for yourself slipping away a little more each month.

I’ve never been a wholly optimistic person to begin with, so adding trials like this does not do good things for my emotional health. I just can’t get myself to a place where I feel like “it will happen.” How early is too early to resign yourself to the fact that it will probably require expensive treatments to have a baby? And how do you become O.K. with being, essentially, a broken woman?

I promise the next post will be an upper--I got a new camera, so I'll share my day in pictures!

Put the Egg in the Coconut, Knock Elissa Up

We’re officially TTC again. I plan to be as open and honest as I can during this process. Partly because there is healing in writing and sharing—my friends have become great supporters throughout all of this, and some have even taken comfort in my experience as they struggle through trials as well—but mostly because it totally grosses my sister out to have me sharing this sort of thing “on the facebook,” as she said.

There are a lot of emotions surging through me right now. Is it possible to be completed excited and completely terrified at the same time? I think my head is going to explode. Or implode. Some kind of   –ploding is about turn my head into a ball of mush. On the positive side, we are trying again. We are so excited to become parents that we cannot wait to try again. I think what happened last time was that Kurt’s Polish boys got confused and went the wrong direction once they met up with my egglet.  This time, I will make sure that my German genes do what they are best at and oppress the Polish genes and march them into the warm, safe babycradle that is my uterus. What, too soon?

On the negative side is the terror, the raw terror, that something will happen again. I’ve only got one tube left. If I lose that one, our only option will be turning to expensive, invasive IVF. And if the egglet makes it to the basket, that still does not guarantee that something won’t go wrong again. I AM SO SCARED OF LOSING ANOTHER PREGNANCY. There, I said it. Just last night I had my version of a ‘Nam flashback, but my personal hell involved an emergency room and the worst ultrasound tech ever, who left me alone in a room for over 15 minutes without telling me what I already knew, thus forcing me to spend the first 15 minutes mourning my pregnancy completely and totally alone. Not cool, lady. 

In the end, the benefits outweigh the risks. I have two options: try again or never give birth. That’s it. I can either take a deep breath and give it another shot, or I can give up now and never know the joy of carrying and delivering my children. In the end, I cannot NOT have a baby. I cannot let one tragedy scare me off of every trying again. I have to believe that it will turn out okay this time. Despite the deep, dark feelings that try to convince me that I will never be successful at this, that I will only cause myself more heartbreak, I know that I can only forge ahead, and give this another shot.

What can I say, I’m a sucker for misfortune and pain.

Internet Trumps Nature Everytime

So it’s really not a huge secret that K and I both want kids.  Like right now.  So we’re doing what you need to do to have a baby.  [Sidebar: A few friends apparently think we are already pregnant and just hiding it—we aren’t].  As we’ve been doing this for a few months, I’ve noticed that each month the process is really divided into two phases: Booze and No Booze. 

Phase One: Booze

The first part of the month is getting ready for the apparently ONE day I can actually get knocked up.  Seriously, those high school girls on 16 and Pregnant make it look so easy.  But NO.  There are charts and graphs and monitoring that needs to be done to determine the right day for IT.  So I take my temperature every morning, track other symptoms, and generally just wish the weeks would fly by till our next Green Light. 

Let me back up.  Being the OCD Superfreak that I am, I am using a website to track my, um, data.  It’s called fertilityfriend.com, and it purports to help women know the best time to get pregnant.  I think it is just to let control freaks like myself have something to fret about ALL MONTH LONG.  Along with cutting edge science-y things, there is a little stoplight on the page that tells you when to hold em and when to GO.

NO BABY FOR YOU!

It’s like the little stop light at the beginning of Mario Kart.  You just check every day to see when the light turns GREEN OMG GREEN GO GO GO!  K says we should just let Nature take its course.  I say that I am perfectly fine letting Nature take its course, as long as Nature is following my map and please don’t take that ‘shortcut’ you heard about and, oh hell, just let me drive.

This phase is also peppered with my indulging in things like wine a sushi, which I can’t have once we actually starting cooking a kid.  Why do I keep saying “we” like K is gonna be a huge help in the pregnancy department.  It’s “I.”  Once I am pregs, K will be reduced to the role of go-fer when I really need Taco Bell at 3 AM.  I’ve tried to get him to practice this skill, but so far he has not been very helpful.  Apparently he is totally willing to get his pregnant wife food at any time, but the non-pregnant wife can’t even get a milkshake on a Sunday afternoon. 

The second phase (No Booze) is me freaking out every day that I might be pregnant and using aforementioned website to enter ever single ‘symptom’ that I think I am having and seeing how many points those symptoms earn me.  Like once I reach a certain number, I WIN and the prize is a baby.  There are approximately 25 different symptoms listed, and I can convince myself of almost all of them on any given day.  Although K says that I cannot count irritability because I am always irritable.  Then I punch him in the face and click YES.

This is where babies come from

At least it gives me a hobby and keeps me off the streets and out of gangs.