Silly Little Girl

Fear squashed / reborn

I had another ultrasound this morning. We measured 6w3d, and there's a lovely little blob right where it should be, complete with flickering heartbeat and all. It apparently also has ears.

I heaved a sigh of relief, which was quickly followed by pounding anxiety - oh my god, I am going to have another kid. Yeah, there's no avoiding it now. Baby number 2 by the time I'm 22! Go me!

Nik's behavior has improved greatly, and he even told me today, unprompted, that he's excited about the baby now he knows everything is ok.

...Sorry, I have no idea what I was talking about because I fell asleep while writing this post. Lord and how pregnancy is so much fun.

Soliciting, again.

Anyone out there pregnant? Anyone want to be my friend? Anyone want to have marathon phone conversations about how your boyfriend or husband doesn't even come CLOSE to trying to understand your little fucking predicament?

Maybe hormones are taking over my brain, but I keep finding myself increasingly unsatisfied with this go around. And that's saying something.

I actually don't like talking about my first pregnancy. It was a dark, scary time of my life. Make no mistakes, it produced the absolute brightest point of my life, but the actual pregnancy was not an enjoyable time. I was 16, my family was practically destitute, I was without the (supposedly) ever-important baby daddy...it was just terrifying, and not a time I remember too fondly.

This time around, I thought things would be different. I'm older, slightly more prepared for the joys and horrors ahead of me, and most important, I was knocked up by a man who loves me and would want to be supportive and understanding.

Lo and how it amazes me that I can continually misjudge the people around me, even after years of knowing them.

I could chronicle my litany of complaints, but I'll make my case in one glaring point - while I've been home every night this week, fretting and worrying and crying because maybe this pregnancy is lost (and as much as I'm complaining, I don't know that I can handle the devastation of losing this pregnancy) where has Nik been? Hanging out at his bar every night after work, shooting darts or spending money we don't have on beer, enjoying himself. Not once has he asked me if I'm ok, not once has he broached the subject. Nope. It's all just a passing blip on the king's radar - he's more concerned with whether or not I remembered to wash his clothes for work.

Am I alone in this? I read the blog's of women like Dooce and Amalah, who seem to have superhumanly kind partners, partners who genuinely want to share in the scares and joys of pregnancy and child-rearing, and it makes me wonder if I ended up with a bum model.

Nik will probably read this - and accuse me once again of being "irrational and deliberately crazy." He says pregnant women aren't supposed to act like this. Pregnant women aren't this crazy. It makes me want to scream and cry and fucking tear his face off.

And what makes it all startlingly, painfully worse is that there's no one to talk to about it. My only friend with experience with pregnancy is suffering her own problems, and I know no one else who's been through the ordeal with a partner in tow.

So, again, I ask, anyone want to be my friend? When I stop being ungodly exhausted, I'll do nice things like bake you cookies. All you have to do is hold me while I cry and max out my martyrdom, and occasionally tell me that all men are assholes and mine is no exception. Also, promise me that he'll come around and start acting like a compassionate human being and lover, instead of a roommate who thinks you provide laundry services.

Fear Revisited

Ultrasound showed 5w6d, small gestational sac with no fetal pole. It may be early, it may be lost. We're praying.

Fear

What makes us covet our fear? Does it seem like our nightmares will become reality when spoken? Or written? Have we such martyr complexes that we feel the need to present a strong, valiant face when, in truth, we're quaking in our cross trainers? Are we so Stepford Wifeish that the world MUST NOT KNOW that we are not perfect, our lives are not sunny, our times are not great? I know all three of these are true for me.

Since Thursday, I've been contemplating writing a myriad of lists of the things I'm afraid of. I've come close a few times, but the truth is that I'm afraid that speaking my fears is as much as wishing them true. I'm afraid that showing my anxiety is a sign of ungratefulness, and my joys will be ripped from me for that. But here I am, ready to confess, to you, mostly because there's no one else to confess to.

1. I am afraid that I will lose this baby. I am terrified that my doctor's appointment on Friday will reveal and immaturely developed sac, or an empty one. What if I've been pregnant for months and I didn't know it because tests lied to me? What about all the anti-psychotic drugs in my system? All the times I went out and drank to excess? All the smoking, the caffeine, the birth control. What have I done to my child? Will she be damaged somehow? Will she make it at all?

2. I am afraid that I broke something in my fiance. His eyes seem hollow anymore. He seems scared and distant. He claims to be happy, even if stressed, but his attitude towards me is cold. He accuses me of psychotic paranoia when I question him about this. The accusation seems mean and deliberately hurtful. He yells at me for being tired all the time. He yells at me for being emotional. I want to scream at him - "I'M PREGNANT. I WILL BE TIRED AND EMOTIONAL FOR THE NEXT 6-9 MONTHS. WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO?" I feel like there's a lack of understanding between us anymore, and a lack of TRYING to understand.

3. Despite all the above, I'm afraid that my fiance will enlist in the army and get killed. The army is, in so many ways, the solution to so many of our problems. Because of Nik's criminal history, it's nearly impossible for him to get a good job with good benefits. We lack the means to get out of debt and create a new, better life for our family. We lack the means to get a bigger place. Nik lacks the means to truly discipline himself to do the great things of which he's capable. The army solves all those problems. But truly, though the benefits are great and seemingly heaven-sent, none of it's worth it if I lose him.

All of these things would keep me up all night if I wasn't so goddamn exhausted all the time. My fears dominate my days, I contemplate them over and over again in quick succession. I wonder if it's hormones, if it's because I'm off my medicine, if it's legitimate.

Goddamnit, someone hold me.

Getting my ass kicked

As the title implies, this pregnancy is already kicking my ass. I feel as if I've either "given" in to it, or else I'm just acknowledging more.

First of all, the cold turkey of nicotine is KILLING me. The days are getting mildly easier, but I'm still jonesing a good chunk of the time. I felt righteous though, because I saw a number of clearly pregnant women smoking at the wedding I was at yesterday.

The blinding exhaustion is taking over my life. I slept from 3 am till 9 am this morning, from 10am to 3pm this afternoon, and then from 4pm to 8pm this evening. I have been productive, yes, I have.

I'm still reeling from some of the shock of finding out - we still need to tell Nik's parents which is going to be a hurdle, and I'm stressing about finding a bigger place, but aside from that, I'm getting really excited. I'm not sure Nik is entirely on the bandwagon yet, but Donovan sure is.

I plan to chronicle this pregnancy as much as possible, since I have nothing but my private memories to remember my first by. So if you find me slacking off and going weeks without writing, kick my ass. Unless, of course, you find details of my pregnancy boring, then tell me to suck it.

SURVEY SAYS:

I really know how to build the suspense, yeah? Like my favorite TV shows (House and Gossip Girl, so kill me) I lead you into this big mystery and then BAM. Cut you off, quick-fast!

So you're all wondering whether or not I'm pregnant.

After my last post, my "symptoms" eased up enough that I really stopped thinking about. I kind of just kept on keeping on.

Then, yesterday morning, after I dropped something off for my mom at her work, someone congratulated me on my pregnancy. Because, goddamn! did I wake up with a belly that morning. Hard, protruding, round bellyness going on over here. And I thought, damn, that's how it happened the first time around. One day there was just a belly.

So I did some quick math and realized that if I was pregnant, and I got pregnant when I think I did, I was about 12 weeks along, and with a second kid....yeah, I probably would be starting to show right around now.

When I came home and showed Nik the belly, he shrugged and said "I don't know. Get another test." Which is insane, because Nik has always thought I was throwing away perfectly good dollars on negative peesticks. But, eager to throw away more money, as always, I complied. I dropped him off at work and grabbed another test at CVS. Then I peed on it. And no less than 10 seconds later...

LITTLE BLUE PLUS SIGN LITTLE BLUE PLUS SIGN LITTLE BLUE PLUS SIGN EVERYWHERE!

Sure as shit, I'm pregnant.

We are a little bit in shock...this certainly wasn't part of the grand plan for right now, but we're happy and excited, too. I'm a little concerned cuz I've got some Category C medicines in my system, I smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish. Not to mention the fact that I've been on birth control the whole time, too.

Anyone have any experiences with Category C drugs during pregnancy that'll ease my conscience a little bit?

Welcome to my insanity, Mastercard Style

Roughly 40lbs of Chinese food in two weeks: $40
Three bottles of soy sauce in three days: $9
12lbs gained in one month: my self-esteem
A "Glow": courtesy of pregnancy, or $40 for Smashbox foundation
A solid week of uncontrollable gas: my dignity
Two solid days of nearly hourly puking: a number of costs.
4 Pregnancy tests: $36
4 negatives: Priceless, and yet, what the fuck?

Seriously, what's happening here folks? Two months ago I fucked up my birth control pill schedule and skipped a period. I took a number of pregnancy tests, and they all came back negative. Yet I had the lower back pain and citrus cravings that came with my previous pregnancy. So I made a call to the doctor, and they had me in quick-fast for a blood test to rule out an ectopic pregnancy. All negative, all well. Fast forward.

Two weeks ago, I started spotting, right on time. I went through my ritual of making sure my granny panties were ready to go and bought my monthly box of Tampax, but lo and behold, spotting turned to nothing. In a matter of hours. Two days go by. Nothing. Two more days, nothing. So on and so forth until I'm a full week and a half past when I should have gotten my period. Also, hello FAT. I wasn't any skinny minny before this, but I'd clearly put on a decent bit of weight very recently. So, off to CVS I went to pick up the first of many peesticks. Negative. Whew. I felt relieved and figured I was just running late.

Then I went to reorder my pill pack, and noticed that Saturday's pill, the last of the active pills was left. Except, I distinctly remember taking Saturday's pill. Oh shit...I'd been behind a day for how long? No fucking idea. So, another trip and two more peesticks later, I was still staring at a negative.

Again, I felt some relief. It was short-lived, however, when I woke up the next morning and promptly emptied my guts into the toilet. For the first of 6 times that day. Two days later, it was the same deal. The remainder of my days has been filled with periodic nausea and blinding exhaustion. And yet, one more test later, STILL negative.

So really, what the hell is going on? I'm craving Chinese like it's going out of style, pouring soy sauce on everything, regretting it moments after I finish eating, and repeating the same pattern hours later. Moreover, after much mashing and tweaking, it's definite that my boobs are getting enlarged and sore.

Am I crazy? I feel like I'm having some type of psychosomatic pregnancy, except don't you actually have to WANT a pregnancy to have one of those? Believe me, another little mouth, no matter how squishy, is the last thing I need around here. Not for another few years, anyway.

Anyone experience shit like this before?