So here I am, waiting on another potentially upsetting call from my doctor.
I thought I was supposed to be finished with all these phone vigils.
We had our big ultrasound yesterday. The good news: All the major body parts appear to be accounted for and on schedule. The tech estimated my due date at five days prior to the date my OB gave me—allowing me to do a little I-told-you-so dance in my head, because I’ve thought my due date was a little late all along, even given my LMP. The bad news (which he was hesitant to tell me): My amniotic fluid appears to be a bit low. As in, it’s just below the lowest acceptable range. So, how much do you know about amniotic fluid? I sure as hell didn’t know much until I started frantically Googling after our appointment. It seems to me the worst case scenario is that there won’t be enough fluid floating around for our baby’s lungs to be able to develop in the next month or so. It also appears that low amniotic fluid could mean bed rest for the next five months.
Or it could not. According to our tech, the baby was lying on its side, which somehow made it difficult for the tech to measure fluid in all the four quadrants. In other words, our fluid level could be fine; the baby might just be coy about letting us see all the right stuff. Of course, being the Henny Penny that I am, I tend to focus on the uterus being half empty rather than half full, so I’m a bit anxious right now. To say the least. It will probably take at least two full days for the report to make its way to my OB, so I just have to sit tight until then. She may look at the report and not be concerned; she may call and want me to come in for an immediate repeat ultrasound; or she may want to check me out, but not until my next appointment in two weeks. I’m not sure which of the two latter options would be worse.
M isn’t as concerned as I am—which is probably good for my sanity. He thinks the uterus is half full. So I’m just trying to live my life and not study every bit of discharge that comes out of my nether regions, wondering if the fluid is slowly coming out of my uterus like air coming out of a tire with a leak in it.
Oh, and the gender? Well, yes, we found out what it is, but we’re keeping mum for now. The only person who knows is a co-worker (ironically, C) who was the first person to ask when I came back. I hadn’t yet decided to keep it a secret. She wanted me to call a stand-up staff meeting and announce the gender, but as I sat there fighting back tears, I realized I can’t handle all the well wishes just now. I would prefer to announce the gender when I’m feeling a bit more comfortable—or at least when I know more about what’s going on. So the gender is a secret between M, C and myself. We’ve got a long time to let other people in on it.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
A new position (no, not that kind of position!)
I have now been put in a position I never expected to be in—I think I may be inadvertently acting insensitively toward a fellow infertile (I don’t think I’ve ever used that many “ins” in the same sentence before!).
Here’s the situation: I work in an office area with nine other people, most of whom have their own office. I happen to share an office with a co-worker—one whose company I really enjoy. About 15 to 20 feet down the hall sits C, the office “queen bee.” I’ve never really liked her all that much, for reasons I will outline later. One other note about C before I go on: She’s an infertile. She and her husband went through several inseminations before deciding to call it quits seven years ago. She knew about my struggles to conceive; we went out for a drink one time and talked about it.
I’ve been “out” about my pregnancy for about six weeks. During that time, the subject of my condition has frequently come up, whether it be indigestion after an after-work drink (I made a bad choice in eating so many of the appetizers we chose) or just random comments about how I’m feeling. I also tend to talk to my officemate, who has kids aged 5 and 8, about certain issues, like unexplained pains, outgrowing my clothes or when my ultrasound is. Sometimes I bring topics up, but a lot of times she asks me questions.
Today, I was talking to her about the dilemmas of picking out nursery furniture when I saw her eyes shift to the side. I turned around, and there C stood, waiting to ask my officemate a question. I felt embarrassed, as though she had caught me red-handed going on and on about my pregnancy. Although if I’m to be perfectly honest, even though I try to keep my voice down, I’m sure she can hear some of the stuff we talk about down the hall. I’ve become “that annoying pregnant woman.”
Except.
C has never been particularly nice to me. I went through a period during which I thought she couldn’t stand me. She would invite the other younger women in our office out to do stuff and rarely include me, except as an afterthought. She invited my officemate and her family to join her and her husband at their cabin in the woods over Labor Day weekend, and talked to her about the trip openly in the office. It took me a long time to realize that she simply didn’t regard me as a friend—and that was OK. We didn’t all have to be friends.
When another woman in the office (a good friend of C’s) was pregnant with twins, C was always talking about it. It was almost like she was living vicariously through her friend.
Even now, she sometimes brings up my pregnancy randomly (there were some kids screaming in our office today and she told me I had 16 years of that to look forward to).
On the one hand, I want to be sensitive to C because I know how annoying it would be to have to look forward to five months of baby talk. On the other hand, I don’t have much else to talk about. My job is getting slower and slower, and the hours drag by. When somebody asks me a question about the baby, I’m not going to give a one-word answer and then turn away. Plus, C has never taken pains to keep her personal life separate from the office. Why should I bend over backwards on the off chance that I might be hurting her feelings, even while she sends around baby pictures of her friend’s newborn twins (she didn’t come back to work)?
My pregnancy may sting more for her because she doesn’t consider me a friend. But that’s not my problem—it’s hers.
Here’s the situation: I work in an office area with nine other people, most of whom have their own office. I happen to share an office with a co-worker—one whose company I really enjoy. About 15 to 20 feet down the hall sits C, the office “queen bee.” I’ve never really liked her all that much, for reasons I will outline later. One other note about C before I go on: She’s an infertile. She and her husband went through several inseminations before deciding to call it quits seven years ago. She knew about my struggles to conceive; we went out for a drink one time and talked about it.
I’ve been “out” about my pregnancy for about six weeks. During that time, the subject of my condition has frequently come up, whether it be indigestion after an after-work drink (I made a bad choice in eating so many of the appetizers we chose) or just random comments about how I’m feeling. I also tend to talk to my officemate, who has kids aged 5 and 8, about certain issues, like unexplained pains, outgrowing my clothes or when my ultrasound is. Sometimes I bring topics up, but a lot of times she asks me questions.
Today, I was talking to her about the dilemmas of picking out nursery furniture when I saw her eyes shift to the side. I turned around, and there C stood, waiting to ask my officemate a question. I felt embarrassed, as though she had caught me red-handed going on and on about my pregnancy. Although if I’m to be perfectly honest, even though I try to keep my voice down, I’m sure she can hear some of the stuff we talk about down the hall. I’ve become “that annoying pregnant woman.”
Except.
C has never been particularly nice to me. I went through a period during which I thought she couldn’t stand me. She would invite the other younger women in our office out to do stuff and rarely include me, except as an afterthought. She invited my officemate and her family to join her and her husband at their cabin in the woods over Labor Day weekend, and talked to her about the trip openly in the office. It took me a long time to realize that she simply didn’t regard me as a friend—and that was OK. We didn’t all have to be friends.
When another woman in the office (a good friend of C’s) was pregnant with twins, C was always talking about it. It was almost like she was living vicariously through her friend.
Even now, she sometimes brings up my pregnancy randomly (there were some kids screaming in our office today and she told me I had 16 years of that to look forward to).
On the one hand, I want to be sensitive to C because I know how annoying it would be to have to look forward to five months of baby talk. On the other hand, I don’t have much else to talk about. My job is getting slower and slower, and the hours drag by. When somebody asks me a question about the baby, I’m not going to give a one-word answer and then turn away. Plus, C has never taken pains to keep her personal life separate from the office. Why should I bend over backwards on the off chance that I might be hurting her feelings, even while she sends around baby pictures of her friend’s newborn twins (she didn’t come back to work)?
My pregnancy may sting more for her because she doesn’t consider me a friend. But that’s not my problem—it’s hers.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
16w4d
My goodness, how the weeks fly by! Well, not exactly—it’s just that things have settled into enough of a routine that I really don’t have much to blog about. I’ve written several posts in my head, but each time I considered putting them down on paper (or monitor), I pictured all of you throwing rotten tomatoes or eggs at me.
See, I’m extremely irritable right now. Everything in the world bothers me. Every time I talk to my mom (with whom I am very close) on the phone, I usually wish I hadn’t called her. When I consider calling or getting together with friends, I starting listing all their worst traits in my head and decide it’s not worth the bother. And if someone dares to cross me? Ooh, they better watch out. We had Bible study at our house earlier this week. M was out of town, but he made me promise to turn on his Halloween village because he’s so very proud of it. The reaction from one of the couples? “Oh, we don’t celebrate Halloween.” They’re very conservative, evangelical Christians who turn their noses up at the “pagan” holidays that include “sinful” creatures like witches, ghouls, etc. Um, wasn’t Christmas a pagan holiday before the Church turned it into Christ’s birthday? Don’t get me wrong—I, too, am a very spiritual person. I just know when to give my self-righteousness a rest.
See? I’m doing it again. I have to think it’s the hormones, because I don’t remember being this irritated with this many people in a long time. I HOPE it’s the hormones!
I’m still very, very happy (of course); just kind of bitchy. To everyone but M, thankfully. He and I are on the same page about a lot of things that are bothering us, so we can just bitch to each other. Talk about marital bonding. :)
I’m also counting down the days at work. A bit early, I know, but I’m getting kind of sick of being on someone else’s schedule. After the baby is born, I will return to freelance writing, which means I don’t have to pretend I’m busy working even when I finished the job two hours ago. I’m eager to start making contacts for writing gigs right now (I feel like I should be doing something, career-wise, instead of just standing still), but I know I can’t. For one thing, my bosses have no idea I’m planning on leaving, so I probably shouldn’t start spreading it around. For another thing, what might be a decent contract writing gig today could be next year’s budget cut. Nobody—not even my best contacts—can promise me they’ll have work for me next May. So I sit and wait.
To pass the time, I start making up reasons why something could be wrong with the pregnancy. Mind you, I have no legitimate reason for those concerns, but I work in healthcare, so I hear about way too many of the worst-case scenarios.
Fear #1: I haven’t felt movement yet.
Fear debunked: I’m only at the beginning (16w4d) of the period during which I might feel my first movement. Even my OB said don’t panic if I don’t feel movement until 19w.
Fear #2: The baby isn’t growing.
Fear debunked: I’ve gained seven pounds already, for goodness’ sake! All that weight has to be going somewhere.
Fear #3: The baby has some debilitating condition.
Fear debunked: Well, I can’t actually refute that one yet. But I just have to assume everything is OK until I hear otherwise, right?
So, as you can see, even though I have mostly relaxed, I’m still kind of annoying to be around. I’m one of those people who can have everything going wonderfully in her life, and still find things to complain about. Fortunately, the only ones who hear most of the complaining are M and you fine people.
See, I told you you’d throw eggs at me.
See, I’m extremely irritable right now. Everything in the world bothers me. Every time I talk to my mom (with whom I am very close) on the phone, I usually wish I hadn’t called her. When I consider calling or getting together with friends, I starting listing all their worst traits in my head and decide it’s not worth the bother. And if someone dares to cross me? Ooh, they better watch out. We had Bible study at our house earlier this week. M was out of town, but he made me promise to turn on his Halloween village because he’s so very proud of it. The reaction from one of the couples? “Oh, we don’t celebrate Halloween.” They’re very conservative, evangelical Christians who turn their noses up at the “pagan” holidays that include “sinful” creatures like witches, ghouls, etc. Um, wasn’t Christmas a pagan holiday before the Church turned it into Christ’s birthday? Don’t get me wrong—I, too, am a very spiritual person. I just know when to give my self-righteousness a rest.
See? I’m doing it again. I have to think it’s the hormones, because I don’t remember being this irritated with this many people in a long time. I HOPE it’s the hormones!
I’m still very, very happy (of course); just kind of bitchy. To everyone but M, thankfully. He and I are on the same page about a lot of things that are bothering us, so we can just bitch to each other. Talk about marital bonding. :)
I’m also counting down the days at work. A bit early, I know, but I’m getting kind of sick of being on someone else’s schedule. After the baby is born, I will return to freelance writing, which means I don’t have to pretend I’m busy working even when I finished the job two hours ago. I’m eager to start making contacts for writing gigs right now (I feel like I should be doing something, career-wise, instead of just standing still), but I know I can’t. For one thing, my bosses have no idea I’m planning on leaving, so I probably shouldn’t start spreading it around. For another thing, what might be a decent contract writing gig today could be next year’s budget cut. Nobody—not even my best contacts—can promise me they’ll have work for me next May. So I sit and wait.
To pass the time, I start making up reasons why something could be wrong with the pregnancy. Mind you, I have no legitimate reason for those concerns, but I work in healthcare, so I hear about way too many of the worst-case scenarios.
Fear #1: I haven’t felt movement yet.
Fear debunked: I’m only at the beginning (16w4d) of the period during which I might feel my first movement. Even my OB said don’t panic if I don’t feel movement until 19w.
Fear #2: The baby isn’t growing.
Fear debunked: I’ve gained seven pounds already, for goodness’ sake! All that weight has to be going somewhere.
Fear #3: The baby has some debilitating condition.
Fear debunked: Well, I can’t actually refute that one yet. But I just have to assume everything is OK until I hear otherwise, right?
So, as you can see, even though I have mostly relaxed, I’m still kind of annoying to be around. I’m one of those people who can have everything going wonderfully in her life, and still find things to complain about. Fortunately, the only ones who hear most of the complaining are M and you fine people.
See, I told you you’d throw eggs at me.
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