My husband was upset that I told my mom about our news. In fact, he is upset that I want to tell anyone about our news.
“What ever happened to that 12 week rule?”
I hate the 12 week rule. I mentioned this previously when (on my old blog) I announced that I was going to be open about the fact that I was trying to get pregnant. I reject the idea that women should keep their pregnancies secret until there is a more reasonable assurance (past the first trimester) that they won’t lose their pregnancy. This idea is just so stupid, despite how prevalent it is in our culture.
Did you know that 30% of women who KNOW they are pregnant will lose their pregnancy within the first 12 weeks. Most of these losses are early, within the first 6 weeks, but some of them happen later. Unfortunately, most people don’t realize that early pregnancy loss is this common because no one talks about it. And, no one talks about it because there is a pervasive belief that no one is supposed to talk about pregnancy until it is *almost* 100% guaranteed. So where does that leave women early in their pregnancy? Where does it leave women who lose their pregnancies early? I’ll tell you where: it leave them mourning in private and blaming themselves for their loss because this hasn’t happened to anyone else…”
Unfortunately, it has happened to many other women, and they have all suffered along in silence. Or maybe they celebrated in silence for so long because they weren’t allowed to share their excitement, hopes, fears, and worries with the people who are important to them.
Back to my conversation with my husband…
Yes, I may be very early in my pregnancy, but it doesn’t change the fact that I am pregnant and that I’m excited about it. Yes, I am fearful that I may lose this pregnancy, given the statistics. IN fact, because of my line of work, I think I am more worried about losing this pregnancy than the next woman. But every woman who has ever been pregnant knows this fear. SO why can’t I tell my mom, and my sister, and my best friends that I am pregnant, that it is early, that I’m excited, but also scared? While I might want to stand on the rooftops and announce it to every person I pass on the street, I can refrain from that. Why? Well, because not everyone needs to know all the intimate details of my whole life. But I’m not going to lie about or deny something that is true.
So, if I do lose this pregnancy, what I am going to say to those people I already told? How about I tell them that I lost my pregnancy? Why not tell them that I am sad and devastated and that I was really hoping that it would last? Why not accept their sympathy and support? Why not start breaking this stigma?
My husband might be upset that I started telling people about my pregnancy, but I just told him to suck it up. I won’t got announcing it on Facebook or telling our neighbors and acquaintances until we decide it is the right time to inform the entire world (or maybe my belly will start doing that for me before he’s ready). However, I am not going to alienate myself from the people who mean the most to me and who are going to support me through the positive or the negative – regardless of what happens. I’m just not going to do that.
Even though I’ve been through this twice before, I find it impossible to believe that there will likely be a full grown baby ready to pop right out of my belly. I thought about this in a more cerebral manner than I ever have as I held the perineum of a woman delivering her very own baby this morning. How is it, that in 8 months, everything so quickly transforms from a little pink line on a pregnancy test to a complete human being coming into the world?
The more important question is, “how will I (can anybody) be ready for this to happen!?”
Eight months is not a long time, yet it is the only time we get to prepare ourselves for the most life changing event ever. I know it will be enough time, but I can’t believe it: Even though the last two times, it was certainly enough.
What does seem like too much time though, is the time it takes to wait for a better confirmation of this pregnancy. Just this weekend we have had 3 ladies with ruptured ectopic pregnancies and it has been impossible for me to not think about that possibility for myself. Or the possibility that I could be one of the 30% of women who have a miscarriage, or something else that would make this pregnancy non-viable. It feel like forever.
Time is surreal and it makes no sense. Regardless, we are bound by time, whether we’re ready for it or not.
The only thing that is positive right now is this stick I peed on yesterday:
I am not positive how I feel about this pee stick. If I go back to Wednesday evening, when I eagerly sought out the results of my blood test, I initially had a surge of excitement seeing that the result were “abnormal.” I was slightly dejected when I saw the number: “38… That’s it!?!”
Given that over 25 is considered positive, this is a very guarded positive and I have mixed feelings about it. I am supposed to have the test repeated today to see if it is going up, but yesterday I couldn’t help but do another urine test “just to see.” It was faintly positive (the picture above), which is a change from the negative urine test I had only two days before. I tested so early because I was feeling so “off” and despite the weak positive results, those feelings are intensifying.
I am scared. What have I done? Anyone who’s known me in my old blog life knows that this decision is something I have thought about extensively for years. Now that I’ve done it, I’m not so sure.
I’m barely 4 weeks pregnant and I’m already nauseous (my nauseous anxiety probably doesn’t help), which causes me significant stress at work. It’s bad enough that I’m afraid of vomiting, but what if I’m scrubbed into a surgery, or delivering someone’s baby and I suddenly get that wave of horrible nausea? What am I going to?
Mere hours after getting the “barely positive” blood test result the other night, I was running around the labour ward helping women being their new babies into the world. “Am I going to be ready for this again?” “In about 8 months, I’m going to be the one laying on this bed with my legs spread wide open”
Then at 2am, as I sit down to repair the perineum of a horribly exhausted mother, I can’t help but hear the new infant fussing and crying and I think, “I’m not ready for another 6+ months of fussy babies and no sleep and sheer exhaustion.” But then again, my life is already sheer exhaustion. Is it only going to get worse, or is there no more worse than this?
There is nothing that I am positive about in this situation. You could even argue that my attitude is less than positive. I hope that changes soon, too.
(Interestingnly, as I write this post I feel anxious that maybe this isn’t going to be a real pregnancy – and I think that makes me a little sad to think about)
Tomorrow is D-day (or P-Day, really). I can’t decide what result I’m hoping for: Period or Missed Period.
Over the course of the last 3 months, I have been becoming more confused about my decision for baby #3. I’ve thought about it extensively over the past few years, but having my IUD removed and then my life getting so much busier simultaneously, I’ve been feeling more anxious about the decision and the effort to get pregnant.
I feel like I’m on a 2 week up and down rollercoaster of emotion. I am disappointed when I realize I’m not pregnant and then I determine that I’m going to try harder. But then I’m post ovulation and I spend 2 weeks stressing out that I’ve made a mistake. Finally, I get to this point where I’m mere days away from an answer and I really don’t know what I want. Last month when D-day came early, I remember not feeling as disappointed as I had in previous months. I also don’t think I’ve been “trying” as hard this month (and maybe that’s more schedule related than anything, but hard to be objective).
These last few days I’ve had waves of mild nausea and a prominent gag sensation (but I’m always nauseated so I can’t rely much on that). I’ve been having moments of feeling hot and sweaty every morning for the last few days. I’ve been getting a gross metallic taste in my mouth on-and-off for 2 days. I’ve been more exhausted and falling asleep earlier at night. Today, it’s not even lunch time and I’ve already peed 5 times.
I have a signed requisition for a blood pregnancy test sitting in my pocket and while I want to get it done, I’m scared of the result. I really, really don’t know what I want. I don’t know if this is normal.
I came across this blog post/article in my Facebook feed this morning:
I love Scary Mommy for all their awesome and cynical posts about motherhood. This post, however is a little different. While I have no idea who these people are, I feel like it doesn’t matter. Why do we, as a society, feel the need to keep our successes and struggles with pregnancy a secret?
A miscarriage or a fertility struggle is not something of which we should be ashamed. Yet, people get criticized for sharing the news too early, or they feel like they can’t be honest about the excitement, disappointment, fear, or whatever emotion they’re feeling about their family planning.
Previously I decided to be open about my decision and efforts to try for a third baby. If I’m going to be honest, I am disappointed that this time around hasn’t been as easy as the previous two… And when I say easy, I mean I think about being pregnant and BAM! This time around I am into cycle 4.
I am trying to be more open about trying to conceive. However, I still find myself saying “I’d like to have another,” rather than, “yes, we’re trying,” when someone asks if we want another child. I wouldn’t say that I’m happy with my difficulties in being honest and open… But I can start here, on this blog:
I am trying. So far I haven’t had any luck. In fact, this month my period came earlier than I expected and this worries me because of my family history of premature ovarian failure.
So there you have it – all my open and honest worries about my failed attempts at pregnancy over the past 3 months.
I received a beautiful picture from my Little One when I got home from work last night. He drew me a picture of the cats he wants. I asked him why the cats only have two legs and he said, “Mommy, when you are looking at them from the side, you can only see two legs. Because, you know Mommy, the other legs are on the other side.”
How could I be so silly to forget that important tidbit of factual information!?!
At least the cats have some awesome whiskers. Oh, and that random happy face? That’s Little One smiling, because he has two cats.
“But Mommy, I can have good behavior without taking a pill. I promise!”
He was pleading with me after I asked him why our nanny found his Dexedrine tablet in the garbage can the other morning.“I don’t like having to take medicine, Mommy. No one else takes medicine, just me. I want to be normal, like everyone else.”
My Little One, while only 5 years old, has been diagnosed with high-functioning autism and ADHD. He’s been taking a small dose of Dexedrine for the past 5 months and we have noticed a huge improvement in his negative ASD symptoms: Less random noises, few and shorter lived emotional breakdowns, less disruptive and abusive behavior, less rigidity in his thinking, and better able to focus throughout the day. But, how do you argue with a 5-year-old to take medications when he comes back at you with such an adult complaint?
“Everyone takes medicine, Honey. Mommy takes pills, Daddy takes pills, and those puffers that Little Brother uses, that is medicine too. There is nothing wrong with taking medicine – sometimes we need a little medicine to make us feel better.”
“But I feel just fine when I don’t take my pills, Mommy. I’ll show you how good I can be when I don’t take my pills. Please Mommy, let me show you.”
My heart was breaking just a little bit. How does my little man already feel ashamed and marginalized for taking medications to help wit his mood and behaviour? So, over the weekend I decided to try a day without his medication. It was a horrible day filled with defiance, little brother beating, random sounds, and worst of all, lots of Mommy and Daddy yelling. But how do you get mad at a little boy for just being himself?
“See Honey, how much trouble you are getting into today? It’s because you didn’t take your pill this morning. Taking your medicine really helps to make sure you are the best you can be.”
“But Mommy, I’ll start having good behaviour right now. Watch, you’ll see.”
Apparently being yelled at and sitting on time out all day is better than taking medication.
The next morning it was back to direct observed Dexedrine therapy and my heart was breaking a little bit more