Don't Give Up

Don't ever give up. It will happen.

26 weeks and counting.

Still here. Still pregnant.
I went into the bathroom stall at work today to go pee for the fifth time this morning, and when I sit I can usually feel him kick me harder. He started thumping around in there and it hit me all over again how grateful I am that I'm finally pregnant. How, a year ago, I was convinced I couldn't have children. Positive there was something wrong with me that could never be fixed. It would never happen. I was going to grow old, childless, and bitter. A dead end on the family tree. Pink elephants were more likely to fly out of my butt than getting pregnant.

And now here he is. Six and a half months along, wiggling and kicking in there. I lived for what seemed like so long in the land of "it will never happen" that it's almost still totally unreal to me. But I love it. I love my baby. I love my belly. I love my weight gain and spontaneous piercing lower back pain. I love my skin, tight as a drum, and the little drummer boy inside. I love misjudging how close I am to objects like countertops and doors. I love involuntarily patting and rubbing and rocking the little bun. If I didn't want to meet this wee guy so terribly, I'd wish to be pregnant forever.

21 weeks 1 day.

I don't have much to say. I always feel weird posting here now, like I'm treading on other people's toes. When I visit some of my contacts blogs who are TTC, it stings to read how they can't bear to click on contacts of theirs who have left TTC hell. Mostly because I understand exactly how that feels.

I want to write things like "I can feel my baby boy kicking me all day at work," and "I started working on his nursery, here are the colours we've considered..." but it all feels so smug and inconsiderate, despite the sweet comments left on my previous posts telling me otherwise.

I want to share how I'm feeling, how there is a light at the end of that horrible tunnel and one day everything will be okay. But I just feel so bad every time I start typing the words. Like I'm just rubbing it in people's faces. Then I wonder how I can be rubbing it in people's faces if they aren't even visiting my blog any longer anyway. Then I get kind feeling like wow, this blog is kind of totally pointless now. And I want to sign off, over and out, nice knowing you.

I guess what I'm saying is I don't feel comfortable writing here anymore even though I have some really awesome contacts who would like me to continue updating.

I'll still be around, I just don't know what to say. I'm still reading but mostly lurking on all my contacts blogs.

I just want everyone to have their precious babies.
I want it so much.
I want all the deserving mommies to have their little ones.

sigh.

19 Weeks

Sorry I've been quiet. I don't mean to worry anyone. It's hard to know what to say.
We all know the last thing anyone who is trying to have a baby wants to hear about is someone else's baby. That's what keeps me from coming here and posting my own entries, even though I do read and comment on others.

I count myself at 18 weeks and 6 days, but my doctor has me at 19 weeks 2 days and apparently I have measured spot-on with the doctor's age estimate since the beginning. However, I continue to count myself at what I think I am. Right now I'll just split the difference and say 19 weeks.

I went in for my morphology scan this morning...



He was kicking his feet, putting his hands in his mouth... and he was a HE. There was no guessing about that! We saw his toes, his fingers, we saw his brain and kidneys... My baby has kidneys. Kidneys! The baby I have wanted all my life, the baby I cried for for a year of failed attempts, the baby I feared I'd never have, my baby boy has two perfect little kidneys.

14 Weeks.

Hi all!

I can say now that I am starting to calm down a little. I find myself actually thinking about this pregnancy in the sense that it will actually end with a baby. A happy, healthy little baby in our arms.

I still have my little freakout moments, like, five or ten times a day. Oh no I don't vomit fifty times today, I must be losing the baby. Oh no my boobs didn't feel like they were exploding with fire for about thirty seconds, I must be losing the baby. Oh no everything seems fine and there's nothing to worry about, it must mean I'm losing the baby...

I think, honestly, if I had never had a miscarriage... if I had never read so much damn crap on the internet... I'd be cruisin' along just fine right now. I still feel like I'm just taking it one cautious step at a time.

I am now in the second trimester but I have yet to actually LOOK pregnant. I gained a few pounds in the first month due to taking it easy (instead of working out and dieting like I usually do) and I think many people are mistaking that for "baby", the people who know I'm pregnant at least. They exclaim how I've got a little "bun" going on now, but honestly I don't know how much of that "bun" is baby and how much is mama.

I feel like I'm a candidate for What Not To Wear, these days. Nothing fits right, so I find myself rummaging through my closet for something, anything that sort of slightly goes together, kind of fits my midsection, and maybe keeps me warm. For example, today I left for work wearing stretchy black pants, a long black tank top, a long pregnant-y looking black top, a long black-and-gray-striped shirt over that, and then a much shorter gray wool sweater over that, resulting in excess shirts underneath flowing from below the gray sweater like a cluster of black and gray boxcar hobo skirts. I got to the office and didn't even bother changing out of my running shoes and into something decent all day.

12w1d

12 weeks and one day. Did I really just make it past three months without incident? Holy crap! Holy crap crap crap!

I had my 2nd appointment Monday, just a checkup & a quick listen to the heartbeat. Of course, at first, she couldn't find anything. I could hear my own heartbeat, woosh woosh woosh. Then she said "Oh, there's a kick," and I heard a little "bop!" sound. Bop? It was then that she located the heartbeat. The tiny, rapid little heartbeat, a fast little boomboomboomboom. "Do you hear that?" she whispered to me. I smiled and nodded vigorously. Then more Bops! Bop bop bop! "Those are kicks. He's kicking and moving around in there." she said. Kicks! My baby is kicking and moving and shuffling!

She measured the heart rate. 160. She told me the information they received fromt he ultrasound clinic said the baby was measuring right on track, exactly to the day. The heartbeat was strong and everything looked good, and to make my appointment for four weeks from now.

I left the doctors office and stepped out to the car, and for the first time thought, "Whoa... ...I think I might be having a baby."

11 Weeks.

Ok honestly? I need to get a grip. If I were on the outside looking in at me, I'd be saying "My God, woman, chill. Everything is going to be perfectly fine!"
But since I'm not, I'm not.
I'm a ball of nerves.

I'm 11 weeks today. I'm so close to that marker, that time when you can sort of stop and take a breath and say Hey! This might actually be happening!

Since everyone at work found out and knows, it's a constant barrage of "What have you started doing with the nursery?" and "Have you picked out this and that and this yet?" - How do I explain that I haven't even touched the spare bedroom yet because I'm too busy checking to see if I've started spotting.

I know I need to chill. This anxiety is not healthy. I have a doctor's appointment next Monday and it can't come fast enough. I am both eagerly anticipating and dreading it. Why oh why can't I get the mental image out of my head of her not finding a heartbeat?

I still fear other pregnant women. I can't bear to be around them. I went to Starbucks for a decaf latte - something I splurge on maybe once every two months if that. I took my place in line behind a very pregnant woman who was all baby. One of those perky petite svelte types in a pencil skirt and heels - probably 100 lbs sopping wet, and a big balloon out front. I felt uneasy. Whenever I'm around other pregnant women my mind turns to statistics. One out of however-many will miscarry. And since she's obviously well into her 7 or 8th month and doing fine, who does that leave us with? Bingo. Ok so obviously that is painfully ridiculous and completely ilogical nonsense. But try explaining that to my brain. I felt so uneasy standing there that I actually lost any appatite for the latte I was about to order and I stepped out of line and left the store - only to end up holding the door for yet another very pregnant woman on her way in. What is this, maternity day at Starbucks? I fled.

These next six days will drag. Each day I'll become more and more convinced that there won't be a heartbeat when I get to my appointment. Deep down I'll know I'm just being paranoid and that I should lighten up and relax. I cringe at that word, relax.