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.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Some perspective
As I thought more and more about the below post, I decided to run it past a co-worker. Was my friend being insensitive and/or ignorant in saying “You’re so lucky you’re pregnant” to me? The verdict from my co-worker humbled me. She told me that my friend is simply envious, and for me to think that such a phrase should not be uttered to me is like I’m putting an asterisk next to my name that I don’t want anyone to EVER forget.
Ann: Pregnant*
* After infertility
I was at first indignant that my co-worker would say such a thing to me. Then, I was ashamed at how I must appear to other people. All of those pregnancy announcements, capped with an “It took us a long time to get where we are.” I’ve given some people almost a blow-by-blow history.
I have shared my IF history under the guise of spreading public awareness. In truth, it’s because I want people to look at me differently. I want them to acknowledge that I have suffered, that I, more than perhaps some pregnant women they know, really deserve to be pregnant.
What a load of bullshit.
I protested at my friend’s use of the word “lucky.” My co-worker reminded me that there are so many who struggle without ever achieving success. What’s the difference between me and them? I was lucky.
I share my IF history because I want to be special. Now that I am pregnant, I no longer feel special. I know, I know—most infertiles feel the exact opposite. But I wanted to be different, set apart, and holding on to my IF status was the only way I knew how.
I really, really need to get over myself. I just hope I haven’t already become “that person” to most of the people I know. How embarrassing.
Ann: Pregnant*
* After infertility
I was at first indignant that my co-worker would say such a thing to me. Then, I was ashamed at how I must appear to other people. All of those pregnancy announcements, capped with an “It took us a long time to get where we are.” I’ve given some people almost a blow-by-blow history.
I have shared my IF history under the guise of spreading public awareness. In truth, it’s because I want people to look at me differently. I want them to acknowledge that I have suffered, that I, more than perhaps some pregnant women they know, really deserve to be pregnant.
What a load of bullshit.
I protested at my friend’s use of the word “lucky.” My co-worker reminded me that there are so many who struggle without ever achieving success. What’s the difference between me and them? I was lucky.
I share my IF history because I want to be special. Now that I am pregnant, I no longer feel special. I know, I know—most infertiles feel the exact opposite. But I wanted to be different, set apart, and holding on to my IF status was the only way I knew how.
I really, really need to get over myself. I just hope I haven’t already become “that person” to most of the people I know. How embarrassing.
Luck is in the eye of the beholder
I was talking to a friend last night about—what else?—baby issues. She just lost her job last week (she was the insurance carrier in the family), and she and her husband are waiting to find out how much C0bra is going to cost them and how long they’ll be able to be covered. They started TTC at the beginning of the summer and have basically had two or three months to try (they skipped one month because of a wedding scheduled nine months later). Recently, I lent her my copy of TCOYF, and she read it cover to cover. She’s temping this cycle and is hoping she’ll find out about health insurance before ovulation. She has become rather obsessive, which I, of course, can totally relate to.
At one point in the conversation, she looked at me, sighed and said, “You’re so lucky to be pregnant.” I was taken aback by that comment and quickly told her, “Well, it took us a long time to get here.” She knows all about our struggles and has been very sensitive, but I’m not sure she is able to completely grasp what it was like for us. How can she? Even among those of us who have gone through infertility, we each have had our own individual struggle. I don’t really know what it’s like to go from month to month, hoping that pregnancy test will be positive, then dejectedly going about the rest of the day when you get the dreaded one line. My definition of hell is more along the lines of: Faithfully take your temperatures each morning, pay closer attention around days 14-20, see a bit of a temperature rise and start to hope, then see a subsequent temperature drop and feel so sick to your stomach you have to call in sick to work. Then wait until the doctor finally consents to a prescription of Provera so you can start the whole damn thing over again.
At this point, however, history does not matter for my friend. All she sees is reality: I’m pregnant, and she’s not. How many times do those of us struggling with IF wish we could see the endgame? If we could just know for certain we will have a Real Live Baby SOMEDAY, then we could deal with all the rest of the crap. Granted, I’m not anywhere near the endgame, but I’m much closer than my friend is. She can see my happy ending on the horizon, and is still waiting to find out about hers.
I can hear many of you laughing out there in cyberspace. Two months? She’s upset after two months of trying? Yes, it is true that she’s worried her temping will show she’s not ovulating (she had an unusually long cycle for her last month—35 days). I assured her that she has no reason to think anything is wrong, that I have very fertile friends who have taken five to eight months to conceive.
But from her point of view, her world has already been rocked. She and her husband had a plan, and losing their insurance has very much thrown that plan out of whack. I don’t blame her for now assuming that everything else is going to go wrong, too. She doesn’t care about having a job as much as she does about having a baby. And, being pregnant means she can feel more confident about finding a part-time job she can continue after giving birth.
No, I don’t resent her for being envious of me without taking context into account. I don’t “deserve” to be pregnant simply because I went through hell to get here. I was given a wonderful blessing.
I hope she finds hers soon.
At one point in the conversation, she looked at me, sighed and said, “You’re so lucky to be pregnant.” I was taken aback by that comment and quickly told her, “Well, it took us a long time to get here.” She knows all about our struggles and has been very sensitive, but I’m not sure she is able to completely grasp what it was like for us. How can she? Even among those of us who have gone through infertility, we each have had our own individual struggle. I don’t really know what it’s like to go from month to month, hoping that pregnancy test will be positive, then dejectedly going about the rest of the day when you get the dreaded one line. My definition of hell is more along the lines of: Faithfully take your temperatures each morning, pay closer attention around days 14-20, see a bit of a temperature rise and start to hope, then see a subsequent temperature drop and feel so sick to your stomach you have to call in sick to work. Then wait until the doctor finally consents to a prescription of Provera so you can start the whole damn thing over again.
At this point, however, history does not matter for my friend. All she sees is reality: I’m pregnant, and she’s not. How many times do those of us struggling with IF wish we could see the endgame? If we could just know for certain we will have a Real Live Baby SOMEDAY, then we could deal with all the rest of the crap. Granted, I’m not anywhere near the endgame, but I’m much closer than my friend is. She can see my happy ending on the horizon, and is still waiting to find out about hers.
I can hear many of you laughing out there in cyberspace. Two months? She’s upset after two months of trying? Yes, it is true that she’s worried her temping will show she’s not ovulating (she had an unusually long cycle for her last month—35 days). I assured her that she has no reason to think anything is wrong, that I have very fertile friends who have taken five to eight months to conceive.
But from her point of view, her world has already been rocked. She and her husband had a plan, and losing their insurance has very much thrown that plan out of whack. I don’t blame her for now assuming that everything else is going to go wrong, too. She doesn’t care about having a job as much as she does about having a baby. And, being pregnant means she can feel more confident about finding a part-time job she can continue after giving birth.
No, I don’t resent her for being envious of me without taking context into account. I don’t “deserve” to be pregnant simply because I went through hell to get here. I was given a wonderful blessing.
I hope she finds hers soon.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Settling back into normalcy
It wasn’t until Ms. C asked for an update that I realized it’s been two weeks since I last posted. Two weeks! I guess the reason I’ve been MIA is that I don’t have all that much to say. My days consist of: a) counting down the days until I can quit my job after having my baby (I want to return to freelance writing, and I’m bored to tears by work these days); b) watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy in preparation for the new season; c) trying not to completely bore M with my complaints of excessive peeing (no, it doesn’t get better in the second trimester) and mild to moderate constipation; d) trying to put together lesson plans for the rugrats I’ve been flattered into teaching handbells once a week at church; and e) feeling guilty for spending too much time in front of the TV.
Am I starting to show? Well, yes, a teensy bit. After losing two pounds during my First Trimester Starvation Fest, I’ve gained four pounds so far. I’m wearing maternity pants to work because they’re just so darned comfortable.
One thing I wasn’t expecting was that it would be awkward to tell people I’m pregnant. I don’t mean family and close friends—it’s fun to think up unique ways to tell them. I’m talking about friendly acquaintances. Picture me in church, walking up to a friend and telling them I have some exciting news.
Me: I’m pregnant!
Them: Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful news! When are you due?
Me: March 25. We’re shooting for an Easter baby.
Awkward silence, during which both parties are wondering what else there is to say.
Them: Well, that’s just wonderful news. I’m so happy for you.
I never expected to feel so strange about sharing the most exciting news I’ve ever had. At this point, I almost prefer to have people find out behind my back so I don’t have to tell them myself. M wanted to make an announcement during the “Celebrations” time before church, but I forbid him. I felt like people would think we were bragging or something. I was probably being a little overly sensitive, but oh well.
Am I starting to show? Well, yes, a teensy bit. After losing two pounds during my First Trimester Starvation Fest, I’ve gained four pounds so far. I’m wearing maternity pants to work because they’re just so darned comfortable.
One thing I wasn’t expecting was that it would be awkward to tell people I’m pregnant. I don’t mean family and close friends—it’s fun to think up unique ways to tell them. I’m talking about friendly acquaintances. Picture me in church, walking up to a friend and telling them I have some exciting news.
Me: I’m pregnant!
Them: Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful news! When are you due?
Me: March 25. We’re shooting for an Easter baby.
Awkward silence, during which both parties are wondering what else there is to say.
Them: Well, that’s just wonderful news. I’m so happy for you.
I never expected to feel so strange about sharing the most exciting news I’ve ever had. At this point, I almost prefer to have people find out behind my back so I don’t have to tell them myself. M wanted to make an announcement during the “Celebrations” time before church, but I forbid him. I felt like people would think we were bragging or something. I was probably being a little overly sensitive, but oh well.
Monday, September 10, 2007
What's this feeling in my intestine?
I thought I’d write another post on my symptoms, since that’s really all I have to go on these days. I haven’t had an u/s since 8w3d (I’m now 12 weeks, give or take a day), and I can’t seem to get out of my mind that both of my u/s so far have been about 3 days behind what they should have been. But the docs didn’t seem worried, so why should I, right? (Right!) I go in to see my OB again next Monday, so I’m crossing my fingers she’ll do an u/s.
I would be more paranoid, except that I am feeling decidedly different than I was three or four weeks ago. Have you heard about that “round ligament pain?” Well, I’ve got it. The first time I majorly noticed it was about a week ago, when we were on our way home from a road trip. The pain in my abdomen was enough to make me gasp, and of course I thought the worst, but fortunately I was sensible enough to realize that pain that goes away in one or two minutes doesn’t mean much.
The other big, big thing I’m noticing is that I have to pee—all the time. Especially at night. It is now the norm for me to get up three times during the night. And every time, I feel this incredible, uncomfortable pressure (almost painful) that makes me feel like my body is going to explode if I don’t use the bathroom. The weird thing is, sometimes the pressure doesn’t go away after I pee. That used to worry me until I realized my bowels were just pre-warning me that I was going to, um, poo, soon. (This is getting into the TMI category, but hey, pregnancy is gross a lot of the time, isn’t it?) You would not believe how much better I feel these days after doing the ol’ No. 2.
And then, of course, there’s the general feeling of fullness I have in my abdomen/stomach. Not kicking, not movement—just fullness. Some women say they “feel pregnant” even before they miss their period. I tend to dismiss that as wishful thinking. Sort of like “love at first sight.” Now, however, I can definitely say that I “feel pregnant.” If I had somehow lost track of my cycles (ha! like there’s anything to lose track of) and had no idea I was pregnant, I would wonder what exactly was happening to my body. I feel like I just did a bunch of sit-ups yesterday, except I haven’t exercised in weeks (hey—I’ve been tired; don’t yell at me!).
So, that’s where I’m at right now. Nothing really exciting; just mildly interesting little tidbits for those of you who like hearing about this sort of thing. I have to assume that all these “symptoms” aren’t a fluke, and that there really is something (hopefully healthy) growing inside of me.
I would be more paranoid, except that I am feeling decidedly different than I was three or four weeks ago. Have you heard about that “round ligament pain?” Well, I’ve got it. The first time I majorly noticed it was about a week ago, when we were on our way home from a road trip. The pain in my abdomen was enough to make me gasp, and of course I thought the worst, but fortunately I was sensible enough to realize that pain that goes away in one or two minutes doesn’t mean much.
The other big, big thing I’m noticing is that I have to pee—all the time. Especially at night. It is now the norm for me to get up three times during the night. And every time, I feel this incredible, uncomfortable pressure (almost painful) that makes me feel like my body is going to explode if I don’t use the bathroom. The weird thing is, sometimes the pressure doesn’t go away after I pee. That used to worry me until I realized my bowels were just pre-warning me that I was going to, um, poo, soon. (This is getting into the TMI category, but hey, pregnancy is gross a lot of the time, isn’t it?) You would not believe how much better I feel these days after doing the ol’ No. 2.
And then, of course, there’s the general feeling of fullness I have in my abdomen/stomach. Not kicking, not movement—just fullness. Some women say they “feel pregnant” even before they miss their period. I tend to dismiss that as wishful thinking. Sort of like “love at first sight.” Now, however, I can definitely say that I “feel pregnant.” If I had somehow lost track of my cycles (ha! like there’s anything to lose track of) and had no idea I was pregnant, I would wonder what exactly was happening to my body. I feel like I just did a bunch of sit-ups yesterday, except I haven’t exercised in weeks (hey—I’ve been tired; don’t yell at me!).
So, that’s where I’m at right now. Nothing really exciting; just mildly interesting little tidbits for those of you who like hearing about this sort of thing. I have to assume that all these “symptoms” aren’t a fluke, and that there really is something (hopefully healthy) growing inside of me.
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