Buckle up, folks, 'cause this is gonna be a long one...
We were supposed to be at the hospital on Tuesday, Nov. 6 at noon, so M and I spent the morning packing and getting our affairs in order. A good friend called and we spent a few minutes crying together, then M and I left. On the way, we stopped to buy a soft blanket for the baby (our one and only gift for him) and eat lunch. At the hospital, they admitted me right away but it took until 2:30 p.m. for them to finally start the induction. They gave me a vaginal suppository named Cytotec which was supposed to start the contractions. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when they told me they'd check me every four hours to see how the medication was working and administer another dose. Four hours? So how long, exactly, was I going to be in labor????
Both of our sets of parents were at the hospital, and I think they were surprised to see how good I was feeling that first evening. Really, I had absolutely no pain. It wasn't until I was sleeping later that evening that I started to feel the first effect of the Cytotec--fever. I woke up literally shaking like a leaf. I was so, so cold, and I couldn't get warm. Then, at about midnight, I started feeling cramps, like they said I would. Here's the bad part about the cramps--while contractions hurt for a few minutes and then go away, cramps never go away. They just get worse. After a little while, I realized that I couldn't sleep because I was concentrating so much on the cramps. So I finally asked for the epidural.
Boy, was that a fun ordeal: The anesthesiologist kicked M out of the room, so I was holding the nurse's hand while I was shaking, moaning because of the pain and throwing up into a bucket (the Cytotec also makes you nauseous). I was terrified of the epidural, but it turned out not to be nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I highly, highly recommend it for anyone.
The epidural worked wonders: Within about 20 minutes, I had no pain at all and I was able to sleep peacefully the rest of the night. The next morning, the doc checked me and said although I wasn't dilated much, I was very effaced, and she didn't think it would be long now. Sure enough, in a couple of hours, while I was resting peacefully, I felt the first sign that the baby might be coming. Would you be believe that my first thought was, Not now--I'm way too comfortable? Finally, however, I called the nurse and within a few minutes the whole team was assembled. Just a few easy pushes and Zachary Andrew was born at 9:49 a.m. on Nov. 7.
As terrible as this entire last week has been, that moment was the best. He was just so beautiful, it took my breath away. Some of you might think that a baby born at 20 weeks would be disturbing to behold. Not at all--every part of Zach was perfectly formed, down to his fingernails and toenails. He was our son, a wonderful gift from God, and we couldn't get enough of him. To answer your unasked question--yes, he was stillborn. But that didn't seem to matter to us at the time. We took in every part of him, taking tons of pictures. Eventually, our parents came into the room and took pictures, too. They fell in love with him the minute they saw him. The nurses dressed him up in a tiny outfit and hat and he looked just like every other newborn--except, of course, much smaller. He was 14 ounces and 9.75 inches long. M and I said a prayer of thanksgiving to God together, thanking him for our baby boy and passing him into His care. After several hours, we told the nurses it was OK to take him away.
The worst part of the whole delivery was the placenta. They simply couldn't get it out, likely because the low amount of amniotic fluid had caused it to suction to the back of the uterus. They finally had to prep me for a D&C. Fortunately, I couldn't feel a thing, but I watched as they wheeled me into the OR and went about their business. There were five doctors in the room and several nurses. I felt so special! It was like I was watching a TV show of my own life as they positioned my arms and legs in the right way for the procedure.
It took me a while to recover from the D&C (I was nauseous and had a fever again). That night, I slept on and off, and they released me shortly before noon the next day.
Did I say the worst part of the experience was removing the placenta? I was wrong. It was leaving the hospital. The tears ran down my face as I realized: I was leaving my son behind. A mother never leaves her child behind! It was a long way to the car, and the journey seemed interminable as M wheeled me along. No matter what I thought I knew intellectually, all these feelings of guilt and loss washed over me. Wasn't there something more I could do to protect my son? He had depended on me, and I had let him down. Now, I was leaving him in the arms of strangers.
Then, as I stepped into the car, a moment of clarity washed over me. I told M, "You know, actually, we're not leaving Zach at all. He already beat us home. He's waiting for us there." And through my sobs, I felt this strange peace. God is going to make sure our little boy will never be alone.
Since Thursday, I've had minor cramping, of course, and I've had a severe muscle ache in my right leg (probably from the stirrups). But the physical pain has been nothing compared to the emotional pain. See, last weekend we were mourning the loss of my pregnancy. Now, we are mourning the loss of our son. He was the most special thing we have ever created. Ironically, the day we came home there was a birth announcement in the mail from a friend who gave birth to a boy about two months ago. The minute I saw what it was, I quickly turned it over and shoved it in a drawer. I'll look at it someday, but not now. That was supposed to be us in March. We were supposed to be sending out a cute announcement about our baby boy, who was going to grow up to change the world. Instead, the sympathy cards and flowers are slowly trickling in. Don't get me wrong--I'm not bitter. Somehow, this was all in God's plan, and somehow, through all of this, somebody's life (maybe ours, maybe not) is going to be changed for the better.
I'm just very, very sad. And that sadness will not ever go away.
I cry several times a day now. Yesterday, after meeting with the funeral home and deciding that we didn't like the urns they had to offer, we decided to hit the mall to look. This particular mall has terrible parking, and apparently Christmas shopping season is already in full swing. I was so frustrated at losing out on a couple of parking spaces that when we finally pulled into a spot, I started sobbing uncontrollably. Hmm, think there might be something else going on? Although we took tons of pictures, I haven't been able to look at them yet. I'll have the rest of my life to look at them and put them in a special album.
From what we've heard, there are lots of people IRL that are thinking about us and praying for us. Although we know people would like us to have a public memorial service, we've decided to keep it private--just us, nine other members of our families and some pastors and musicians from our church. I just don't want to entertain, and that's often what a funeral becomes. I want our focus to be on Zach.
He deserves it.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Confirmation
I should call my blog "The Unlucky .02 Percent," because that's about the chance of our child having this condition.
See, I can still joke! As many of you already know, you can't cry all day long when you're going through suffering. There are moments of deep sadness, but there are also incredibly, incredibly funny moments, too. M's mother is very emotional, and I think she's been taken aback by how loud we've laughed at times over the past few days. The thing is, both M and I are theater people, and we know how easily the line between tragedy and comedy can be blurred.
As I expected, the perinatologist's diagnosis was correct. Our baby has bilateral renal agenesis, which means he has no kidneys or bladder and cannot survive outside the womb. In addition, there may be a problem with the nuchal fold, which could indicate other major disabilities. In short, our child has lots of problems.
I am scheduled to be induced this afternoon. Unfortunately, the staff at the hospital where I work are not equipped to handle something like this (i.e., ending the life of a living fetus with a lethal condition), so I will be delivering with a different doctor at a different hospital.
The thing is, while M and I are devastated, we have not sunk into a pit of despair. We've been overwhelmed by the love and kindness shown to us--from you guys, from our family, our friends, our co-workers. My OB has been wonderful. She called and spoke to me for 20 minutes last night. She had been trying to fight to get me to deliver at my hospital, but at this point I'm ready for my scheduled induction. She told me how everyone in her office is so broken up about this. Not that they would ever want anyone to experience such a loss, but they were all rooting for me so much.
And our faith has held us up. Honestly, I don't know how we would handle even getting up in the morning without God's help. I feel so sad, but I also feel strengthened. Our path has changed from the one we originally put together. There has to be a reason for it. Some good will come out of this--even if it's not to us. Our little boy's short time in my belly will not be in vain.
Thank you so much for all your comments and offers of comfort. I can't tell you how much it means to open my e-mail and see so many people pouring out their hearts. It breaks my heart to see how many of you have experienced similar losses. That's just not right.
For the first time this morning, I didn't take my prenatal pill. It just didn't seem to matter anymore. I am very, very scared about what's going to happen in a few hours, but it's something the two of us will just have to get through. I just hope the labor won't go as long as 48 hours, as some early inductions have been known to go that long.
Hey, and look on the bright side--I only have $200 left before I reach my out-of-pocket maximum for my insurance! So this delivery will be pretty close to free. (Cut me some slack--I have to find some sort of silver lining. :) )
See, I can still joke! As many of you already know, you can't cry all day long when you're going through suffering. There are moments of deep sadness, but there are also incredibly, incredibly funny moments, too. M's mother is very emotional, and I think she's been taken aback by how loud we've laughed at times over the past few days. The thing is, both M and I are theater people, and we know how easily the line between tragedy and comedy can be blurred.
As I expected, the perinatologist's diagnosis was correct. Our baby has bilateral renal agenesis, which means he has no kidneys or bladder and cannot survive outside the womb. In addition, there may be a problem with the nuchal fold, which could indicate other major disabilities. In short, our child has lots of problems.
I am scheduled to be induced this afternoon. Unfortunately, the staff at the hospital where I work are not equipped to handle something like this (i.e., ending the life of a living fetus with a lethal condition), so I will be delivering with a different doctor at a different hospital.
The thing is, while M and I are devastated, we have not sunk into a pit of despair. We've been overwhelmed by the love and kindness shown to us--from you guys, from our family, our friends, our co-workers. My OB has been wonderful. She called and spoke to me for 20 minutes last night. She had been trying to fight to get me to deliver at my hospital, but at this point I'm ready for my scheduled induction. She told me how everyone in her office is so broken up about this. Not that they would ever want anyone to experience such a loss, but they were all rooting for me so much.
And our faith has held us up. Honestly, I don't know how we would handle even getting up in the morning without God's help. I feel so sad, but I also feel strengthened. Our path has changed from the one we originally put together. There has to be a reason for it. Some good will come out of this--even if it's not to us. Our little boy's short time in my belly will not be in vain.
Thank you so much for all your comments and offers of comfort. I can't tell you how much it means to open my e-mail and see so many people pouring out their hearts. It breaks my heart to see how many of you have experienced similar losses. That's just not right.
For the first time this morning, I didn't take my prenatal pill. It just didn't seem to matter anymore. I am very, very scared about what's going to happen in a few hours, but it's something the two of us will just have to get through. I just hope the labor won't go as long as 48 hours, as some early inductions have been known to go that long.
Hey, and look on the bright side--I only have $200 left before I reach my out-of-pocket maximum for my insurance! So this delivery will be pretty close to free. (Cut me some slack--I have to find some sort of silver lining. :) )
Saturday, November 3, 2007
You know it's a really, really bad day when you go to bed crying and you wake up crying--with little periods of wakefulness in between just to make sure you can't get a truly healing rest. I woke up this morning asking M what I can possibly do to feel better. Because the pain is certainly not going away; it's just getting worse.
I guess the only thing I know how to do is write about my pain.
I'm no fool. I can put 2 and 2 together. Thanks, Geohde, for reminding me of the name of the condition the perinatologist thinks our baby has--bilateral renal agenesis. Yes, it's fatal. Dr. Google tells me that it's extremely rare; only 1 in 5000 babies have it. As M and I remember what the tech told us (he said he finally found the bladder, but it was empty, which was why he had trouble finding it in the first place), and then think about the low fluid levels, we realize we know exactly what the doctor will tell us on Monday: This child will not live. There is no hoping left. There is only raw pain.
When I drove home from the hospital yesterday, it fleetingly occurred to me how beautiful of a fall day it was. I always love Friday; it's my favorite day of the week. M and I were going to go shopping for baby furniture, which I was really looking forward to. We were probably even going to start a registry! I was just waiting for the doctor to tell me everything was fine with the baby, and then we would start making the calls to family members to tell them the sex. It's a boy. We even developed a short list of names earlier this week.
I'm a planner. My life revolves around my plans, and when I'm in limbo, as with fertility treatments, I feel incomplete. An even worse feeling, however, is when the plan gets disrupted. The most recent time this occurred was when my college boyfriend of 2 and a half years broke up with me a few months after I graduated. I was going to marry him and follow him to grad school. Instead, I was forced to imagine a life without marriage--at least in the near future.
We were so ready to welcome our little boy on March 25. I was ready to quit my job, quit a bunch of my activities and start scoping out the Mommy groups. I had all my maternity clothes, and I had decided I would start wearing them to work next week. My friend in our Bible study group had just announced her pregnancy and I was looking forward to us sharing this time together, eventually arranging play dates for our children.
Our baby boy fetus is now 20 weeks old.
My mother told me my brother was really broken up about the news. He kept saying, "And after all they've been through." He's right--how much pain is one couple really supposed to take?
Does this sound weird? I want to start treatments again. As soon as possible. I just can't give up on the plan. People always say you need a grieving period, but all I can hear is the clock ticking away.
I just wish this didn't have to get worse before it gets better. As you might have expected, there's no way I can carry this baby to term. I respect the decisions of those who might, but I cannot bear to be pregnant with a child that can't live without me. The only question will be how soon I can be...induced...and how bad the labor is going to be. I have no idea how they even do it. I mean, the baby is alive, so how does this work? Why are M and I forced to make these decisions?
I guess the only thing I know how to do is write about my pain.
I'm no fool. I can put 2 and 2 together. Thanks, Geohde, for reminding me of the name of the condition the perinatologist thinks our baby has--bilateral renal agenesis. Yes, it's fatal. Dr. Google tells me that it's extremely rare; only 1 in 5000 babies have it. As M and I remember what the tech told us (he said he finally found the bladder, but it was empty, which was why he had trouble finding it in the first place), and then think about the low fluid levels, we realize we know exactly what the doctor will tell us on Monday: This child will not live. There is no hoping left. There is only raw pain.
When I drove home from the hospital yesterday, it fleetingly occurred to me how beautiful of a fall day it was. I always love Friday; it's my favorite day of the week. M and I were going to go shopping for baby furniture, which I was really looking forward to. We were probably even going to start a registry! I was just waiting for the doctor to tell me everything was fine with the baby, and then we would start making the calls to family members to tell them the sex. It's a boy. We even developed a short list of names earlier this week.
I'm a planner. My life revolves around my plans, and when I'm in limbo, as with fertility treatments, I feel incomplete. An even worse feeling, however, is when the plan gets disrupted. The most recent time this occurred was when my college boyfriend of 2 and a half years broke up with me a few months after I graduated. I was going to marry him and follow him to grad school. Instead, I was forced to imagine a life without marriage--at least in the near future.
We were so ready to welcome our little boy on March 25. I was ready to quit my job, quit a bunch of my activities and start scoping out the Mommy groups. I had all my maternity clothes, and I had decided I would start wearing them to work next week. My friend in our Bible study group had just announced her pregnancy and I was looking forward to us sharing this time together, eventually arranging play dates for our children.
Our baby boy fetus is now 20 weeks old.
My mother told me my brother was really broken up about the news. He kept saying, "And after all they've been through." He's right--how much pain is one couple really supposed to take?
Does this sound weird? I want to start treatments again. As soon as possible. I just can't give up on the plan. People always say you need a grieving period, but all I can hear is the clock ticking away.
I just wish this didn't have to get worse before it gets better. As you might have expected, there's no way I can carry this baby to term. I respect the decisions of those who might, but I cannot bear to be pregnant with a child that can't live without me. The only question will be how soon I can be...induced...and how bad the labor is going to be. I have no idea how they even do it. I mean, the baby is alive, so how does this work? Why are M and I forced to make these decisions?
Friday, November 2, 2007
Our worst nightmare
It turns out I wasn't crazy to be worried.
I wish I was.
The short story: Saw a perinatologist. He couldn't find a bladder or kidneys. Told him the tech found a bladder. He looked at the films, but couldn't see a bladder. Tech was probably wrong. Perinatologist will see me on Monday, but it's looking pretty grim. No bladder and kidneys=some renal condition whose name I can't remember right now.
If this is true, the baby can't live outside the womb. I will have to go into labor to deliver, but won't get a live baby at the end of it.
I can't imagine this post sucking any more than it does right now, so I think I'll stop.
I wish I was.
The short story: Saw a perinatologist. He couldn't find a bladder or kidneys. Told him the tech found a bladder. He looked at the films, but couldn't see a bladder. Tech was probably wrong. Perinatologist will see me on Monday, but it's looking pretty grim. No bladder and kidneys=some renal condition whose name I can't remember right now.
If this is true, the baby can't live outside the womb. I will have to go into labor to deliver, but won't get a live baby at the end of it.
I can't imagine this post sucking any more than it does right now, so I think I'll stop.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The anxiety never stops
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.
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.
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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