Back to work = back to awkward (and pictures)

Today was our first full day back with the entire staff of my high school. We had a lovely 7.5 hours of sitting on our butts for professional development that exactly zero of us will remember this school year as we are teaching, but that's beside the point. It was, of course, mind-numingly boring. It was also incredibly awkward for this pregnant gal who doesn't exactly do well with the usual banter surrounding pregnancy. I guess I still tend to forget that others can really tell I'm pregnant now, so I'm still somehow taken off guard when people I rarely talk to come up and start asking about my personal life. I mean, I only started at this school a year go when we moved up here from downstate, so there are literally some people on our gigantic staff I have never yet had a conversation with. Until today.

When we left school last June, I was 14 weeks pregnant and still hiding it very well. Very few people knew I was even pregnant. So yeah, I get that me showing up now suddenly 26 weeks pregnant might be shocker to some of these people, but I guess I just never realized how much complete strangers would want to TALK about my pregnancy with me. And I wasn't prepared for that. I was probably asked if this was my first pregnancy a minimum of 10 times day, and that's a question I still don't know how to answer. I hate saying "yes" because it's a lie. I also hate it because I feel like it imparts a false sense of what this pregnancy means to me: I am not just your average pregnant girl who decided it was time to have a baby and then whoops, here it is in my belly. And I feel like when I answer with a simple "yes," that's the idea I give off. That probably  has to do with the reactions I get, which all seem to be so excited and HAPPY for me... and I have a hard time mirroring those emotions in that moment where I am really thinking to myself, "No, this is my 3rd baby, but to the world, it's the first that really matters." And I hate that. I hate that I don't get to share my other 2 babies' lives with anyone, and that for all intents and purposes, it's like they never happened. It makes me sad. And yet, it's not something I can bring up with well-meaning strangers who only mean the very best in congratulating me on my  "first" pregnancy. But it leaves me feeling conflicted.

Actually, I did give my occasional answer to one person today, which is to smile and say, "Well, it's our first pregnancy to get this far, so we are very excited." And I leave it that, just assuming they can figure the rest out. Ending it on a positive note (that we're really excited) gives the listener an out, so that they don't even have acknowledge the first part of my answer (that it's our first one to get this far) if they don't want to. And they usually don't. This coworker did kind of acknowledge it with something along the lines of "Oh, wow, well that's wonderful then." And then I quickly changed the subject to ask about her daughter who just born last April.

I feel bad because this is a woman happened to bring her newborn baby to the staff lunchroom last spring for her first visit on the same day I was convinced my then 8 weeks pregnant self was going to miscarry. I was a mess that day and was just biding my time until our first ultrasound that afternoon, which I had scheduled in a panic that morning since my nausea had all but disappeared... I was SURE it was over. So when she walked in with her fresh out of the oven darling daughter that day, I lost it. I don't think I was too obvious, but while everyone else was oohing and aaahing, I swiftly ran out of the room and barely made it to the hallway before bursting into tears. I couldn't believe the timing of it all... that on that day when I was sure my world was about to be crushed for the 3rd time, she would choose to bring in this beautiful specimen of the very thing I thought my body could not do.

Thankfully, of course, I was wrong that day and that 8 week ultrasound showed us a baby who was actually doing very well at 2 days ahead of schedule for growth. Oh how quickly I am able to convince myself of the worst. I did it at 8 weeks, and I can still do it at 26. 

I truly hope she didn't notice my theatrics that day, but even if she did, maybe after today she'll understand why I acted the way I did...

And then, bless her heart, today she proceeded to tell me that if I wanted, she could bring me in a bunch of baby stuff that they didn't need anymore. This was their 2nd baby, and since they didn't know the gender before she was born, they had purchased a bunch of gender neutral stuff in case it was a boy (#1 was a girl). When they ended up with a 2nd daughter, she said they'd ended up just using all of the girl stuff they already had. So she basically offered me a lot of brand-new items (bedding, a bouncy chair, etc.) after what was pretty much our first conversation ever... after I ran out of the room crying when she brought her daughter to visit last year (and secretly I was probably incredibly bitter towards her at the time for having just succeeded in her second pregnancy). I feel like a schmuck. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last.

Anyway, I truly hope it never sounds as if I am complaining about this pregnancy. Because I assure you, I am not. I have never been more thankful for anything in all my life. I write all of this simply in an attempt to try to express the awkwardness of trying to act like the "normal pregnant lady" we all know I will never be. I'm terrible at it, and I fear I come off as uncaring or apathetic towards this baby to people who don't really know me. I mean, it's just hard for me to muster the enthusiasm that seems to be expected of me at this point, because I still feel like a phony and a liar. And it's not that I'm NOT excited, because I definitely am, it's just that along with that excitement is the ever-present fear and cautiousness that comes courtesy of a history of loss and heartache. And you just can't explain all of that mess in the 10 seconds most people want to devote to their small-talk back to school conversations with you. So instead, I just did my best to put on a smile and pretend all is bright and merry in the land of my pregnancy... and really, that's how I wish it was anyway, so maybe pretending isn't that bad.

I feel like a broken record when I write about this stuff. Probably because I am.

On a much happier note, all of that awkwardness no longer mattered to me today as I sat there for all 7.5 hours of PD, because for ONCE this baby boy decided to get some exercise and was moving all over the place. I like to think he could sense my vulnerability after all of those false conversations, and so he decided to give me some extra reassurance that he's really in there, growing away just like he should be. I probably looked like a moron smiling at my belly all afternoon, but that sure beat staring at boring powerpoints instead. So that was definitely a highlight of the day.

And the other HUGE highlight, is that we finally found out today that my brother's friend has been approved to donate a kidney to him. This is miraculous news!! He really needs his transplant SOON, and UofM was taking ages (seriously, about 6 weeks) to make their final decision about his friend getting to donate or not. I am just so happy for him.

I know not many people read this blog, but please know that those of you that do (that I am aware of anyway) are in my prayers every single day on my walks. Even though God and I are in a weird, blurry place right now, I haven't stopped praying. And I don't think I ever will. I am praying for many babies in the coming year (a year for me starts with school in September :).

And finally, I want to leave with some recent pictures:

24 weeks (I had my hair cut this day and she curled my hair... I am never that put together on my own!)

25 weeks

26 weeks

26 from the front (looks super creepy to me)

Belly-blue... aka, my baby girl

She lays like this and I find it slightly inappropriate. Still cute though.

Candid shot of my love, from my usual angle while laying on the couch. :)

The Mr.

Today was a day

It was a day alright, and a very emotionally-charged day at that. It started with me waking up, trying to ignore the fact that Nolan still wasn't moving in any way I could notice. I lasted pretty well until just before Phil left for work, at which point we did the doppler for the fourth time in the last 24 hours (that's a new record). All was well with his heartbeat, so I tried to go about my morning and not worry so much.

At 10:25 I had my appointment with my OB, which I was both eager for and dreading all at once. I prayed quite a bit that we could have a good appointment and that he could be reassuring and patient with me. That didn't happen. After arriving early and sitting in my car for a good 5 minutes just holding my belly and praying for movement (no such luck), I was a nervous wreck by the time I got to the waiting area. I tried to read a magazine, but could feel tears welling up and knew I was going to cry if they didn't take me back there soon. I think more than feeling scared I was just frustrated at that point. Why, of all the pregnant women in the world, am I the one to get the baby who just up and stops moving for three days straight? Why couldn't this happen to the girl who didn't WANT to be pregnant to begin with and therefore pays no attention to her body anyway? It is definitely a "woe is me" sentiment, because really in the end, if he's healthy and I bring him home, none of this will matter one iota. It's just that right now, in the heat of the moment, it's damn HARD not to jump to the worst case scenario.

                   

Please don't take this to mean I am not infinitely grateful to be here in this situation. I know I am lucky to even BE pregnant and that it's a bonafide miracle we've made it this far, given our history. It's just that for someone who has anxiety to the 100th degree, it sure would be nice to have a reassuring baby who couldn't STOP moving all day long. But alas, that does not appear to be my son. And I am trying to be ok with that.

The appointment itself was, well, horrible. I truly believe that at this point my OB can't stand the sight of me, and he hardly even tries to ACT like he has any patience left to deal with the woman who is apparently the biggest ball of anxiety he's ever met. The appointment was awkward and far too quiet: He hardly said a thing to me. He did the doppler (big deal, I can do that at home), and after I explained my concerns regarding Nolan's lack of movement, he proceeded to place his hands on my belly and then just sit there for at least 5 minutes, not saying a word. No small talk, no reassurances, nothing. Finally, he said "I'm feeling some movements with my left hand. Put your hands here." So I did, and then I waited, but I didn't feel a single thing. If he was moving, these were NOT the same types of movements we have come to know and love as of late. I mean it when I say, I didn't feel a thing.

At that point he got up (again, without saying anything to me) and walked out. He came back in and said, "Let's go across the hall." I assumed we were going to do an ultrasound (yay), but then again, as he wasn't talking to me at that point, I really didn't know.

Turns out I was right, and he went about getting the ultrasound set up in a room where another girl was having some sort of non-stress test done (awkward, as I've never done an ultrasound in a shared room). Silently, he turned on the machine and found what I imagined was my baby on the screen, though I finally had to ask what it was we were looking at, as I really couldn't tell. Have I mentioned he's not the greatest at ultrasounds? He actually admitted that today, which I did appreciate. Anyway, when I asked what I was seeing he said, "That's a femur."

Um, ok, awesome. I feel SO much better now that I have seen my son's freaking LEG bone. Thanks so much. Seriously?

He continued moving the wand around my belly, which is when he told me, "He's in a breeched position right now, so his head's up here."

No other explanation offered, so I asked, "Um, well, do I need to worry about that at this point?" He said I didn't and that it was early enough that he could still turn around, but again, no real reassurance there. Just matter of fact.

I asked if we could see his face (isn't that all we really want to see?), and he did find his little silhouette, which made me smile despite my anger at how I was being treated. Nolan's little profile looked adorable, and that's the image I'm trying to carry with me through the rest of today. Oh, and he WAS moving around quite a bit through the whole thing, so I guess I really just can't feel his every move yet. I don't know why sometimes I seem to feel every little twinge, and then other times I can't feel a single kick, but I guess that's just how it is.

As my doc was clearly starting to finish up, I asked, "So is he still measuring as he should be?"

To which he responded, "Oh, I'm not even going to do measurements today because you come back for another big ultrasound in a few weeks."

Me: "Oh, ok. But does he look ok to you? You're not concerned about anything?"

Him: "No, I'm not. *Audible sigh*... And I wish I could convince you not to worry about it either."

The bottom line is, I think he's done trying to reassure me. Because let's be honest, I'm still going to find something to worry about anyway, right? So why even try to calm my fears or even be civil to me at this point? Clearly he sees no point in that, and I feel he has basically written me off as a lost cause. And it pisses me off a LOT. I leave these appointments feeling like shit and like I'm a huge nuisance. And then I cry. Because I'm sorry, I am. I'm sorry I'm so scared of losing the most important thing to ever happen to me. I'm sorry I can't be happy-go-lucky like the rest of your patients and that you have to work a little harder than usual with me. I'm sorry I can't just take your word for it that everything will be perfect, end of story, so stop your fucking worrying already. I'm sorry. I look at the other pregnant girls in the waiting room with their confident smiles and carefree attitudes, laughing with their moms or the husbands, and believe me, I want more than anything to BE LIKE THEM. But I'm not, and I can't, and I hate it. I'm sorry. I'm doing the best I can, but when I leave those shitty appointments I honestly feel like I just can't do it. I can't be how I'm supposed to be, and that's that. I'm broken and I guess there's just no fixing me at this point.

Wow, melodrama much? It's been a long, tiring day. Did I mention this was the first day pretty much all summer that I got up at 6:15 with my husband? And that's a whole hour later than it'll be once school starts. So yeah, not digging the transition back to the real world.

Luckily, my next appointment (which is a big one) will have to be with another doctor, because mine didn't have any openings (I was so broken-hearted to hear that). Unfortunately, they have to split this big appointment into 2 different days, which means after my big anatomy scan on Sept 6th to check his ureter issue amongst other things, I'll have to wait until the next day to actually meet with a doctor about the results. Oh joy. I just imagine that will be a very peaceful, worry-free 24 hours, don't you? And on that 2nd day they'll also do my glucose test and give me my Rhogam shot (b/c I'm Rh negative). Right now, I'm really just so thankful that all of this will take place with a different doctor who doesn't openly loathe me!

So that was this morning: It was great in that I got to see my baby boy and (I think?) all is well... And it was horrible at the same time b/c my doctor is a dill hole who treats me like crap and makes me feel like a worthless human being. I'm going to focus on that first part and just be happy that Nolan is alive and well, even if he IS a bit lazy on the kicking front. (Actually, wouldn't you know he has been moving more this afternoon... because that's just the way these things work).

But there was more drama to the day, oh yes. This afternoon my mom called to say she was heading to the ER due to strange infection going on with her fistula (a huge vein they created in her arm back when she was on dialysis), which was causing red, painful spots all up her arm to her chest, as well as a low-grade fever. For someone with a kidney transplant, infection is never good. In fact, it's downright scary. So there's that going on, and they are still at the hospital as I write this.

To make things worse, their beloved dog is going downhill fast (he's 14), and my dad had finally scheduled for them to take him in tomorrow to be put down. He hasn't eaten anything for 2 days, and he's getting more and more lethargic. Because of his bladder cancer, the poor thing has had to wear diapers all summer, and he's just not doing well. It's time to let him go. And that sucks. Fuji is definitely a member of our family, and one we all love dearly, no one more than my parents. I know they are heartbroken, and yet here they are having to spend the last night they have with their dog in the ER, while he's home alone. :( My mom just desperately hopes they won't have to admit her over night, because if she can't go with my dad at 8am tomorrow to say goodbye to him, I don't know what will happen... but I do know it will break her heart even more. I feel so sad for them right now.

So yeah, this has been one emotional day and I think I've already cried at least of 3 times. On the other hand, it is gorgeous outside and I got to see my son, so I have plenty to be thankful for too. Some days are just like that I guess...

Worrying

It has been a rough couple of days with anxiety, and it all has to do with baby boy's lack of movement.  It's impossible for me not to worry when his activity levels drop off so drastically, as they've done for both yesterday AND today. I mean, I have hardly felt him move at all, and I just can't help but worry. My mind automatically jumps to the worse case scenario, which is that he's gone. Then, after I use the doppler and find that he is indeed still alive, my next worry is that while he might not be dead YET, something is definitely wrong. Why isn't he moving? My fear is that something is wrong with him, either developmentally or maybe it's something having to do with the chord. Maybe he's slowing down because he's losing blood supply. I don't know WHAT is wrong, but as we are heading into the end of day TWO with barely a noticeable movement, I am finding it hard not to panic. How can a baby go from moving so much more only a few days ago, to nothing for 2 entire days? I've tried all the tricks too: drinking juice and then laying down, shining a flashlight on my belly, tapping my belly, and many other crazy things I wish I didn't have to subject him to! But none of it works. What is going ON in there?

I hope I'm crazy and that this can be normal, but everything I read on various forums makes me think that most babies are super active by 25 weeks, and that MY baby is not moving the way the rest of them are. I can't help it. I am terrified. I'm convinced that now that I've bought all of these things for him, we're going to lose him after all.

I have an OB appointment tomorrow, where I'm assuming he'll tell me his usual pat answer that "every kid is different", and that my anxiety is ridiculous. I would love to have an encouraging appointment instead, where he'd maybe listen to my worries and at least try to understand where I am right now. We shall see, but I won't hold my breath. If this appointment had been a few days ago when Nolan was a lot more active, I might have actually pulled off a "normal pregnant lady" appointment, per my mom's request, but now it looks that aint gonna happen.

Please pray that Nolan is perfectly fine, and that he starts moving around like crazy SOON. Because this mama can't take much more of this off and on again game. I told my husband tonight that I can't handle this for 15 more weeks. I am a wreck. I just want to hold this baby in my arms and then bring him home with me, but on days like today I really can't believe that will actually happen.

Someone Else's Life

The song "Someone Else's Life" by Joshua Radin makes me cry every time I hear it, which is often since it's on my Ipod and frequently comes on when I'm driving around. It's a beautiful, haunting song. But it's more than that. There are many songs right now that remind me of the baby boy growing inside me, the overwhelming love I feel for him, the gripping fear of losing him and really just the awe I feel that this is actually happening. To me. In my life that had gotten so dark for so long.

This song in particular touches me because as I've already written about in other posts, I DO feel like I'm living someone else's life. I often feel like this is a dream that will only last for so long before I have to wake up and let go of the hope this baby has brought me. I feel a mixture of shyness and quiet pride about what is happening to my body right now, and often get so uncomfortable when other people take notice of my growing belly. It's like I still think no one else can really tell, but then I see my reflection somewhere and experience a small shock at the realization that no, I actually LOOK pregnant. I AM pregnant. This is real, and it's happening. To me. I have been pregnant for 25 weeks, and somehow I still can't believe it.

We took the plunge and ordered some major items this week: A crib, a bassinet, and sheet set for our baby boy. While that was scary, it still doesn't feel real to me. Maybe when it actually arrives at our door and I am forced to see the physical evidence of our baby's pending existence... maybe then it will start to feel like more of a reality? Irregardless, I'm proud of myself for making the purchases, despite the heavy fear that I would place the order only to go into pre-term labor before we ever even get the chance to assemble it. It looks like those fears are here to stay, and unless I want to wait until after our little man is born to buy what he'll need, I'm just going to have to keep working on trying to believe this really is MY life I'm living right now.

Here are the lyrics to the song, as well as a link to the video. Just imagine me singing it to my baby, and you'll get why it makes me cry. I want to meet my baby boy more than anything. Please God, let us have this baby to bring home and raise as our son.

Click here for the video: Someone Else's Life

Somehow I'm leading someone else's life
I cut a star down with my knife
And right now I still see the way the moon plays this tune
Though our nights died

My hands shake
My knees quake
It's everyday
Same way

'Cause then came you
Then there's you
I keep your picture in my worn through shoes

Then there's you
Then came you
When I'm lost I look at my picture of you

And somehow I'll make tonight our own
Show you every way I've grown since I met you

And right now I'll be the boy in your next song
I'll learn the parts and play along if you let me

My hands shake
My knees quake
It's everyday
Same way

'Cause then came you
Then there's you
I keep your picture in my worn through shoes

Then there's you
Then came you
When I'm lost I look at my picture of you

If you let me I'll show the world to you
Yes
If you let me I'll know just what to do

'Cause then came you
Then there's you
I keep you picture in my worn through shoes

When I'm lost in your eyes I see the way for me

Thoughts and ponderings

I have had so many posts floating around in my head, but I never seem to actually sit down and write them out. Today seemed like a good day to change that pattern, since it's been a good day and I therefore am less prone to spew all of my negative thoughts out in this space.

I think overall things have been better. I saw my therapist yesterday and it was one of our best sessions yet (in my opinion). There are two reasons for this:

1) She actually shared a little about her herself for once, which she never does. And I totally appreciated it. It had to do with my fear that my child is going to inherit my uglier traits, such as my emotional struggles with anxiety and depression. And what she had to say about that was awesome, and so comforting. She basically said that no baby is going to turn out 100% like one parent. Our baby will have his own personality and characteristics, and if some of those happen to be from me, so what? She told me her daughter is SO much like her and while that used to worry her, now that her daughter is older my therapist is realizing how much better she can actually HELP her with her struggles, since she's had the same struggles herself. She also said she's really tried to raise her differently than she was raised, knowing how some of her upbringing fed into or resulted in some of those very struggles. I don't know, it's nothing too profound, but I really appreciated her opening up a bit like that. Sometimes it feels weird to sit for an hour and talk only about yourself, to someone you are paying to listen to you. This made it feel a little more like a conversation than a therapy session, even if that was only an illusion.

2) The other reason it was a good appointment is that she told me I seemed much better than when I had been in 2 weeks ago, as in less anxious (and crazy, though she'd never actually say that). She pointed out that most of the anxieties I was talking about this time had to do with getting things done and ready before the baby gets here, since I'm feeling like life is going to get insanely busy once school starts in 2 weeks (it already has, as I've been in to school most days this week already). This might not sound like anything significant, but for someone like me, it actually is. I hadn't really been hearing myself at all, but she was right: I was talking as if I believed this baby was going to actually arrive in December! I wasn't talking about my fears that he'll die in utero, or that he'll be sick when he's born or have severe birth defects... none of my usual, irrational fears. I was talking like an actual, "normal" pregnant person who was worried about getting the nursery set up in time for her baby's arrival. Don't ask me how that happened, but I'm happy it did!

And it's true, I DO worry about these things now, mostly b/c I still feel like I am way behind most gals who are in this stage of pregnancy. I mean, we have not done a single THING to get ready for his arrival, and I know of others who have had multiple showers already and who already have the nursery lock, stock and loaded. Talk about making feel the crunch. I have no idea where to even start! But I think I'm feeling just the slightest bit ready to take the leap and make some purchases. It feels scary to even write that.

Actually, for starters, I think we will order a crib. When I told my mom we were going to go ahead and order one, she was just so happy to hear me talking "like that" (as in, talking like I believe we might actually have this baby) that she went on to insist that she and my dad wanted to buy all of our nursery furniture for us. Wow. That blows me away! But I have to remind myself that this is their first grandbaby and that they have wanted to be grandparents I swear since I was in high school. Whatever the reason, I am thankful for loving parents who want to help us out in such a huge way.

Another thing making my load feel lighter is that I am slowly but surely getting things ready for the new school year. The hardest part is always just STARTING, but once I do I quickly remember that I know how to do this and it will be fine. I AM feeling a bit of extra stress due to the fact that I'll be split between the high school and the middle school this year, but yesterday I was finally given a key to my new (2nd) room, and today I was able to start moving some things over (though I will admit I did start to worry about carrying so much stuff back and forth from my car to the room... what if I pushed myself too far physically?). I'm going to have to get over that fear though, since as a traveling teacher I will unfortunately be lugging my crap all over town with me every day once school starts. Oh well. Anyway, I have no idea how to handle 6th and 7th graders after dealing with only 9th-12th graders for the last 6 years, but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough. 6th grade though! They are BABIES compared to 18 year olds. Lord help me find the patience. I've been told they're actually really fun and that they still have that kid-like enthusiasm that is so lacking by the age of 14, so I think that might prove to be refreshing in its own way.

Today was beautiful, sunny, breezy and in the low 70's. In other words, it was perfect outside and for once, I actually felt my spirits were high enough to appreciate that fact. I don't know, it was just a good day. And I'll take those whenever I can get them!

I think what probably set the more positive tone for the day was that Nolan was being way more acrobatic than usual this morning, which really made me smile. And he's given me little flips throughout the day too, just to let me know he's doing well in there. It's amazing what a difference this can make, and I wish he would just be like that every day, but it seems we have a very calm baby on our hands the majority of the time. He's usually pretty lazy during the day, which always scares me, so for today I am thankful that he was extra active for once. 

24 weeks (tomorrow)

 How far along? 24 weeks tomorrow (a big milestone in my book, since he now has a much higher chance of survival outside of the womb should he happen to come early... but please oh PLEASE don't let that happen!)
 

Total weight gain: I have no idea, but at my appointment last week I think I was up about 12-15 pounds total since the beginning (though I don't know exactly what I weighed then, so it's hard to know).

Maternity clothes? Yes, but I can't really handle maternity pants with that stupid nylon panel that goes up to my bra. How is that supposed to be comfortable? It feels like I'm wearing a girdle. SO I stick to mostly my pre-pregnancy flowy skirts with stretchy waists, and that suits me just fine. Not sure how I'll do with going back to work in 2 weeks when I'll suddenly be forced to dress in real-people professional attire again. Bummer. 

Stretch marks? Not yet, and fingers are crossed that it stays that way! What I DO have are lots of super-attractive veins and capillaries popping up everywhere, including on my stomach, chest, boobs, legs, etc. I knew this one was coming as my mom told my my grandma had HORRIBLE varicose veins as a result of pregnancy (though my mom herself was somehow not plagued by this particular hereditary curse). I kind of expected it though, since I already had some vein issues on my legs even BEFORE pregnancy happened. Really though, it's all worth it SO LONG AS HE COMES OUT HEALTHY.
 

Sleep? I still sleep like a champ, most of the time. However, my back-to-school anxiety is creeping in more and more lately, and I lay awake (lie awake?) sometimes fretting about stupid stuff that doesn't matter, like how in the world I will figure out how to make copies in my new building this fall. Yep, copies. I hope normal people don't lose sleep over this nonsense! Speaking of school, I AM really starting to dread the fact that 2 weeks from now I will no longer be sleeping in until I dang well feel like getting up: It will be back to my favorite 5:30 am wake-up time for the remaining time until this baby is born... at which point I'm told I'll never sleep in again anyway, so I might as well get used to it now... I really do plan to sleep as MUCH AS POSSIBLE over these next 2 weeks though, for that very reason.

Best moment this week? Every moment where I feel him move and kick is the best moment of my day. It's literally the only time I am able to relax for a minute and NOT worry that something might be wrong in there. I wish the kid didn't need to sleep so he could just move constantly!
 

Miss Anything? Nothing that I wouldn't gladly give up forever if it means having a healthy baby, but since the question is being asked (by myself? blogging is so weird), yes, there are a few things I miss: Running my heart out b/c it clears my mind of all that foggy stress I carry around; going out for a fancy beer (Dragon's Milk is THE most delicious beverage on the planet) with my husband; having a glass of red wine while making dinner (though that would also require me to make said dinner, so nevermind on that one); enjoying a cup (or 3 or 4) of coffee in the morning... I love the ritual!;  and finally, taking allergy meds when my face freaks out and my eyes and nose won't stop running (thanks to my sweet kitty who I refuse to stop cuddling). I miss all of these things, and yet like I said, I'd give them all up for good if that's what was needed to get this baby here in December!

Movement? Oh, the double-edged sword. Yes, he is moving quite a bit and like I already mentioned, when he DOES I am so happy and so comforted. However, then we have entire days (and sometimes 2) where I swear I don't feel him at ALL, and that is when my true panic mode sets in. It's amazing to me how quickly I can convince myself that something bad has happened, even when I've gone through this moving/not moving cycle more than once. Thankfully though, the doppler often saves the day... sometimes twice a day if I'm REALLY anxious. I really hate the days where he's so quiet! Freaks me right out. As far as the movements go though, he doesn't have any real patterns down yet. Sometimes he moves in the morning, sometimes at night, sometimes it's after I eat something and other times it's when I'm hungry. It's still the best though when he does it and Phil is around to feel him too.

Food cravings? Not so much lately, no. I do love chocolate milk and muffins still, but that's about it.

Anything making you queasy or sick? Can't seem to make myself eat chicken these days. It just really grosses me out, which is weird because it's generally the meat I eat the most. As for feeling queasy, I still feel pretty icky most days after breakfast and I have no idea why. I thought it was my vitamin, but when I tried taking it at night I still felt gross in the morning. It's NOTHING like it was the first 12 weeks, and I never throw up anymore or anything, it's more that I just don't feel well for a while and then I'm fine. This happens after dinner once in a while too (along with feeling EXTREMELY bloated and full, like I could literally explode).

Gender? Boy!

Labor Signs? No, and they better stay away for at least another 13 or 14 weeks at the very least!

Symptoms? Moody (watch out), bloated after eating, tired, hungry, and killer allergies (but only to my cat). I also get winded more easily when on my daily walks, and then when I sit down after walking my legs do this really bizarre muscle twitching thing for a while.

Belly Button in or out? Still in, but getting smaller (ie more stretched out). I'm wondering when these suckers generally start to pop out?

Wedding rings on or off?  On. No real swelling yet, except occasionally after taking a walk in the heat.

Happy or Moody most of the time? I hate to say it, but moody definitely outweighs happy. I still don't really know how to DO happy with pregnancy, though I'm really trying! I just worry too much to really feel truly happy or at peace. I wish I could change that. 

Looking forward to? Our 28 week ultrasound in a month to check on his ureter issue, which I pray daily will no longer BE an issue. I can't wait to see him again! Otherwise, I also look forward to autumn because I love the season (just not going back to school), and then obviously I MOST look forward to December 4th and finally meeting our miracle baby. :)

Here are some recent pictures, since I keep forgetting to upload them:

22 weeks

Beautiful day in Pentwater for my mom's birthday 8-8-2012

23 weeks at the B&B in Pentwater

23 weeks from the front (please ignore my ginormous moles!)

A more positive post (finally)

I've been feeling a bit bad about how negative I've been lately on here, but then I sometimes forget there are other people reading this and the truth is, I DO tend to be negative more often than positive. I really wish I was more of a natural optimist, but I'm afraid my genetics have me wired to lean more naturally towards the anxiety/depression route, as pretty much everyone in my family struggles with one or both of those. I used to fight it and deny I was affected, fearing the stigma of mental illness if I were to really fess up to needing help with my issues, but thankfully I'm past that now and have accepted my limitations. They don't define me, and having seen how much medication can help, I no longer try to act like I need or have to do it all on my own. It just is what it is.

Of course, I still do partially believe that if my life would just be EASY for a while and we could stop dealing with death, illness and the various other catastrophes that have darkened our lives since early 2010 (not just the miscarriages and IF, but also family health emergencies, extended ICU visits (my mom), the crazy cancer and rapid subsequent passing of my father-in-law, and 2 kidney transplants (my mom last summer and now my brother) maybe, just MAYBE I wouldn't need any help with my anxiety and depression. That bums me out when I let it, but none of us can control all of what happens in our lives, and there have also been many, many blessings along the way as well. Sometimes though, life is just hard.

Anyhoo, all that to say that while going off my Lex.apro during this pregnancy has not always been easy, I do think overall I am doing the best I can. I do have moments of joy, especially when Nolan is really active and makes his presence known. There is no greater feeling in the world than that of watching/feeling my baby move around inside my belly, and anytime I am lucky enough to catch one of his show's I find myself completely transfixed and mesmerized by the little miracle happening in my abdomen. I love him so much.

So whereas very little about this pregnancy has been "normal" so to speak, at least if you are comparing me to a Fertile Myrtle and looking at how vastly different we view/experience our pregnancies, I do believe I am slowly but surely making some progress. For example, I ordered Nolan's first gift from Etsy, and it came in the mail today. It's the most adorable little knit cap with bear ears, and since he's due in December, I figured a hat would be a practical purchase. Now I admit that I've had some of my usual dark thoughts about this, including wondering if we'd be burying him with this hat instead of bringing him home in a car seat, but I try to quickly shove those thoughts aside and just focus on the very good chance that he will MAKE IT and be just fine (one more week to viability!). I'm just being honest here though, and those fears are never far from my mind.

Seriously though, it's so stinkin' cute. The baby's not bad either... though Nolan is probably cuter. ;)





I also have made a few consignment purchases, including some super cute long-sleeved onesies that I found for 50 cents each.

See? Most of the time I really DO believe, or at least hope with all my heart and soul, that this little boy will come home with us, even if I tend to focus on my fears far too often. I'm not ALWAYS negative, it's just that when I'm feeling down tends to be when I feel most like writing/venting, so it all comes out in this little blog space. Sorry about that.

I have a few other posts I'd like to write right now too (or just one REALLY long one), including a recap of my last OB appointment (it was so much better than the last one! Though he clearly still thinks I'm insane), but I don't want to make this as crazy long-winded as my last post so for now I'll call it a day.

I am praying so much for so many out there in blog-land... for my friend K who has big decisions ahead of her, for Heather during her 2 week wait, for all of you with big ultrasound appointments tomorrow (Katie, Ducky, Maria), and for so many others too. I wish I could hug each one of you in person, but instead I'll just do it through the good ol' interweb and through prayer!

And just because she makes me happy even in my worst moments, here's a picture of my sweet cat Belly, acting like she's human and about to eat my yogurt/use my computer.

And finally, I guess I'll throw in one more: An aerial view of Nolan as seen from above (he looks HUGE here). This is me looking down at my feet yesterday.

Just act like a "normal" pregnant person...

Tomorrow morning I go back to see my OB for the first time since the last appointment where he made me feel like crap about my anxiety issues. I want to address how he handled the last appointment (making me even more anxious about stuff I have NO control over), but I'm nervous I'll just make things worse between us and I kind of need him on my side. Anyway, I don't usually have a problem saying how I really feel, but I don't want to be too confrontational either. I talked to my mom about this today, and she responded in a way I just had to share. It's really pretty humorous, in a frustrating kind of way. :)

Here was my mom's advice (she is a pro at saying the exact WRONG thing, bless her heart (she always means well!), and some day I want to write a book about some her classic statements to me through all of this)...

Me: "I'm going to be honest with him (my OB) tomorrow about what I need from him, and how unhelpful his advice was last week. I don't think it's fair that he treated me that way."

My mom: "Oooh, I wish you would wait, maybe until your next appointment? I mean, give it some time. If you bring up the last appointment, he's going to think you're a psycho. He probably doesn't even remember it. Just try to act like a normal pregnant person tomorrow, ok?"

Me: ... silence

Mom: "I mean, I just don't want him to treat you that way again and you might upset him."

Me: "I'm NOT a normal pregnant person, mom. Sorry. And I'm not going to 'pretend' I am for his sake. I don't care about protecting HIS feelings. This is my pregnancy, not his."

Mom: "Ok, I just don't want you to make it worse."

Sigh... this is very typical of my mom. I love her to death, but she is SO good at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. And she's the first to admit that. But bless her cottin' pickin' soul, she also has more patience with me and all my craziness than any other human being possibly ever could. I actually laughed quite a bit about the line "Just try to act like a normal pregnant person tomorrow, ok?" b/c it's just so damn ridiculous. :) If only I could, mom, if only I could. I'd give my left foot to BE a normal pregnant person, but that ain't gonna happen. Instead, I'm a "psycho" pregnant person who demands a lot from her OB. Oh well. It is what it is!

Miscarriage and Infertility REALLY messed with my head... But is it permanent?

This issue has been on my mind a lot lately, and I've been wanting to write about it for quite some time. Actually, I've been wanting to write about a lot of things, but there's no way to make them all fit in one post so I'll try just stick to this one for now.

Now I knew pretty much immediately after my first miscarriage started that something in me had changed and that I would never, ever be the same person again. It shattered my world and splintered my reality in ways I am still trying to piece back together (faith in God, in myself, in the future...for example).  I don't know how to make the pieces fit again and I have felt for quite some time like I am very literally STUCK here in this difficult place where I am at once pissed off at God and scared of him at the same time. It's horrible. But again, that is for another post.

As I already mentioned, my experiences have changed me, and so far I don't see how it has been for the better other than that I am able to empathize with others and their pain in a much more real way now than I ever could before. Aside from that, all it has done is make me bitter, jealous, angry, terrified, anxious and depressed. I could literally write a novel about this issue alone. Even though it took us almost a full year (11 months, I believe) to get pregnant the first time, I was still fine at that point. I still believed it would happen, and I had so much hope. We just weren't trying hard enough, or I was running too hard (I was really into training for 5K's at the time), or finishing grad school was just too stressful. Then, my mom got sick and I figured it just wasn't our time. Whatever the reason, I figured our time would come soon enough. So when it finally did in October of 2010, I thought "This is it. This is our time, and this baby is going to be a light for my hurting family. It's going to bring hope and joy to my sick mama." I really, truly believed these thoughts were from God and believed them with all of my heart, even when that first pregnancy started to have complications pretty much right away.

And then, even after the shock of seeing that sweet little 9 week old baby floating around with no heartbeat inside of me, I somehow got past the anger and found my way back to God. Sure, I was angry, but I believed he had a "plan" and that if I could just trust in Him, it would all work out just fine. I prayed through my grief and my anger and my jealousy of other women with healthy babies. I clung to the hope that he would not leave me or forsake me. I tried, I really did, to "let go and let God," as so many people advised me to do.

And then it happened again.

The 2nd time I was destroyed. In truth though, looking back, I was still so broken from the first loss that in all fairness I probably wasn't in the best emotional state to be trying for another baby. But if you've ever had a miscarriage or a loss, you understand the desperate drive to just get pregnant again... to get back what you've lost. And so, 3 months after losing our precious first baby, I found myself pregnant again. It happened relatively fast, even with my crazy messed up cycles, and for that I was thankful. But I was fragile and I was scared. When I took the requisite survey at my OB's office to screen for risk of post-partum depression, my OB point-blank said to me, "You know you score off the charts for depression right now, right?" "Yep," I said, "I know." Yet, I was assuming that being pregnant and having a baby would fix that depression right up. After all, my miscarriage was the initial cause.

Well, long story short, that pregnancy lasted even less time than the first. My faith was stomped into the ground, even though I tried for a while to cling to it. When my first due date rolled around in June of 2011 and I was still bleeding from my 2nd miscarriage that had started in APRIL, it was all too much. I think I've probably already written about that experience, so I'll skip the details, but a major turning point with my faith issue happened the night before that June 30th due date. I went to the women's Bible study with my church at the time, and after updating them all about my struggle, these very Godly and wise older women asked if they could lay hands on me and pray for God to stop my bleeding. So they did, even though I told them it made me nervous b/c of how fragile my faith already was: I knew that if it didn't work, that might be the end for me. Still, my hope that he would hear them and have mercy on me outweighed my fears, so I ultimately agreed. And pray they did.

The next day, my due date, the bleeding did indeed seem lighter at first, but it had been coming and going for months, so I wasn't holding my breath. "Maybe..." I thought, "Maybe this really WILL be it and it will be God's way of showing me he still cares about me." I remember I was sitting at my computer in the office that afternoon, when I felt a sudden gush of wetness between my legs (definitely TMI, I know). "Shit!", I thought. I was wearing a pad though (as I had been doing for the last 10 weeks or so... I swear I should have taken out stock in maxi pads), so I assumed I'd be ok when I stood up to go across the room and into the bathroom. I was wrong. I wasn't just bleeding a little, I was gushing blood that quickly soaked through my pad, my underwear, my skirt and then proceeded to drip all over the cream-colored carpet as I rushed across the room to the bathroom. Blood was literally everywhere and I could not believe it. This... THIS was God's response to all of the earnest prayers from some of the most Godly women I know? Well, shit. Thanks a lot.

My bleeding didn't stop that day, the day I should have been meeting my first-born child, oh no. It didn't stop, it came back with a vengeance I had never seen before. And I spent the rest of that afternoon trying to scrub fresh blood out of our carpet, all the while feeling whatever was left of my faith slip through my fingers.

I would love to say that that final deluge of blood was the end of the whole ordeal, but it wasn't. I went on to bleed for a few more weeks before I finally had another ultrasound and was told I'd need the D&C anyway... which of course led to two MORE weeks of bleeding to heal up from the surgery. Basically, I spent all of last summer bleeding, and I hated my life. I hated my body. I hated God.

(I guess I wrote that story out again after all. Sorry!)

We decided to take at least a 6 month break (though I hadn't realized I'd be bleeding for 3+ of those months, but whatever). Then, I got a new job and moved up north, so my husband and I were apart from August until he got a job up here in November, so that made taking a break all the easier (kind of hard to make a baby when you rarely see each other). But when he came up in November and we were finally moved into our own place, we felt ready to try again. This time, we were working with a new RE who had me on fertility treatments to try to up our chances of creating a healthy embryo (I was ovulating so late that with the first two babies they thought the problem could have just been poor egg quality). As we'd gotten pregnant relatively easily the other 2 times (once I figured out OPK's and charting and how to tell when I was ovulating), we both assumed the treatments would be our ticket to another pregnancy, and this time a healthy one. We had a lot of hope. So when month after month of pills and follicle studies, followed by injections and more follicle studies still did not lead to a baby, my state of mind quickly went downhill again. "You mean, after all of that, NOW I can't even get pregnant? And with HELP from one of Michigan's top doctors? What the hell is wrong with me? I guess it's never going to happen." We decided after 4 months of treatments to take a break. I wasn't handling it well emotionally and it clearly wasn't working anyway.

Lo and behold, that month we took a "break" (I was still charting and still using OPK's... a real great break, haha), is also the month I got pregnant. I ovulated at at normal time for once in my life, and the Dr. says this is probably due to the "honeymoon effect" of still having some of the drugs in my body, even though we hadn't used them that cycle. I was very hopeful right after ovulation and started on the progesterone supplements right away, per usual. However, about 4 days after ovulation, we both got some not so good news about our health (I swear I already wrote this all out... oh well), and I stopped taking the progesterone b/c I assumed there was no way we'd be pregnant. And I proceeded to drink as much as I wanted and basically act like a moron for the next 2 weeks, upon which I realized my period hadn't come at its usual shortened luteal phase point of about 10 days after ovulation. I took a test, and the rest is history. Well, the history that has led us to this point of being 22 weeks and 4 days pregnant with a baby boy... so it's not in the books YET that this baby will come home with us, but God I hope so. Maybe it's the nightly Lovenox shots that are keeping whatever the mysterious autoimmune disorder I was diagnosed with (literally the day before I found out I was pregnant) in check, or maybe it's just random luck. Or MAYBE it's God. I don't know, and I don't really go there right now because it's so scary and too confusing.

So shit. This is NOT what I intended this post to be at all. This was going to be about all of the psycho behaviors I now manifest as a result of my past experiences, and I still want to write those out because they are really weighing me down lately and I'd like to know I'm not the only one who struggles with them. I guess I'll jot down just a few (and if you are still reading this, you are seriously a champ... I am nothing if not long-winded. I get it from my mom, who used to write my teachers a novel instead of short note to explain why I might need to leave school early that day for this or that appointment. Ha).

Anyway, here are some of the things I do that I am NOT proud of ("Thanks, IF!"):

1) I instantly remove from my facebook news feed any woman who announces a pregnancy, unless I know she has had a difficult road leading up to that pregnancy. That is, I basically unfriend any and all women who are blessed with carefree and ignorant pregnancies. It's just too painful for me to see their stupid joy and bliss and to know they have NO fear or idea whatsoever that things could go wrong. And of course they WON'T go wrong (or so I assume) because these are extremely fertile women who get to time their children out exactly how they want to. And yes, even while pregnant myself, I feel no different about these women.

2) I then secretly stalk these women and check their pages when I feel like it, which I swear makes me a glutton for pain. Still, some small part of me wants to see how the "normal" half are experiencing pregnancy, so I check out their pages for a glimpse into what that world is like. Then, I feel like shit because I realize how far removed I am from anything at all resembling normal in the realm of being pregnant. Why can't I post cute comments about how amazing it is to feel my baby move inside of me? Or post pictures of my growing belly? Or quips about my cravings and how great my hubby is for putting up with me? Because that's not how pregnancy is for me. Pregnancy is terrifying and painful all at once. And yet, I torture myself by looking at these women's pages all the time. What is wrong with me? It's like spying on a club I'm not a part of, but want desperately to be included in. But I will never be a part of that club.

3) I curse every woman who is having their 2nd child (again, without any problems), especially when that child is the opposite sex from their 1st one. I guess I just think, "Really, you get to have it THAT perfectly? Not only are you on your SECOND baby since we started trying for our first, but now you get to have one of EACH? Well, isn't that perfect?" I am evil. I truly feel some jealousy and even hatred for these happy women who have it so easy. And I secretly wish their 2nd babies would be the same sex as their first, just because that seems a LITTLE fair, right? Of course, then they'll just keep having MORE babies until they get what they want. And eventually they will b/c that's how life works for the fertile. It feels cathartic to write that out, even while I know it makes me look like a heinous bitch. It's not me, it's the infertility talking.

4) I read into women's facebook comments like a private detective, looking for clues that she might be pregnant. You're "feeling sick"? You're pregnant. You're "exhausted"? Yep, pregnant. Then, I get insanely bitter towards these gals (I wrote "bitches" first, but then realized that might sound too harsh... it's how I feel though. Ha!) for not just coming out and saying it like I know they want to. Really, you have to be all cryptic and make us all guess? You know you are like 5 weeks pregnant and totally believe your baby will live (b/c it will, of course), so just go ahead and announce it to the world. We all know that "Craving Cold Stone ice cream" is not something a normal person would post unless they also happened to growing a baby inside of them, so stop trying to be cute. I also look for winky faces and comments from other people in response to these posts, since often others who are already in the know respond with more stupid cryptic comments like "Oh, I COMPLETELY understand. Just wait! ;)". It all makes me gag and want to slap someone, but only b/c once again, it's stuff out of the land of the fertile, where I just don't belong. Life there must be so blissfully ignorant and sweet. I wonder if that's what heaven is like.

5) I feel palpable relief when I see a girl my age tagged in a picture with a drink in her hand. I mean, it's crazy how relieved I feel. It's like, well, I know SHE at least is not going to be announcing a pregnancy today or even tomorrow, so she's safe at least for another couple of weeks. And I want to hang out with those people. Even though I am pregnant. Again, because they are "safe."

6) I don't do well with pregnancy small talk... at ALL. I was recently at a wedding where there happened to be about 5 pregnant girls all around my age, and so it was assumed we'd all talk and catch up and swap stories. This was a nightmare for me and I did my best to avoid conversation with any of them. We have nothing in common. All of them are on their first pregnancy, and none of them have ever had anything go wrong. There is literally nothing I can add to their easy conversations that won't just sound like a downer. "How are things going for me? Well, he's alive so far, so that's good. I still freak out pretty much every day thinking he's for sure dead b/c I haven't felt him move in a long time, but then I use my doppler (Oh, it's that thing they use at the Dr. to hear the heartbeat. Yeah, I rented one to have at home) to make sure he's still alive and I feel better. Sometimes I have to do this multiple times in a day." They don't know how to respond to this, and I am left realizing I should have just said "Everything is GREAT! I feel great and we're so excited to be having a baby boy. How are YOU doing?", but then, I've never been one who could hide her true feelings. Ugh. I wouldn't want to talk to me either.

I guess I'm going to stop there, because really, haven't I already painted a sad enough picture of life inside my sick and twisted little head? Ha. I miss my happy pills. It's all true though, and I try to tell myself it's normal given my history, but in reality I know many women handle this stuff with SO much more grace than I seem capable of. And I wish I could be that way. But for now, this is me. I am broken and bitter, but also happy and thankful for the life growing inside of me. This sweet baby boy better stick around for the long-haul though, or you might have to throw me in the loony bin once and for all.

Have a great weekend everyone! (Everyone = about 4 people at this point, but I am thankful for you all!).

P.S. I am not going to even proofread or edit this b/c it's too damn long, so I apologize for the typos. And for making you read 100 pages of rambling.