Week 8. February 21, 2015
This week feels in some way the same as last week. I
kind of feel like groundhogs day only instead of the script of that movie, my
movies goes something like this…
I feel sick all day and night. I feel like I have the
flu 24 hours a day every single day. I can’t sleep. I have to watch
what I eat because it is a constant game of eating enough to not throw up due
to an empty stomach and eating too much but too few fiber and having problems
the other way. It is a delicate game of balance in which I can’t seem to
find my grip. I keep falling off the damn balance beam. I can’t
imagine that is helping the way I feel either.
I am worn out. Between not sleeping, feeling like I’ve
had the flu for 3 weeks and taking care of the kids, the only way I manage is
by counting down the hours, then the minutes until I can find my favorite spot
on the couch. Seriously, I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Jarrett reassures me that it should end by the beginning of the second
trimester. While I appreciate his positivity, I can’t even imagine how
I’m going to get through at least 5 more weeks of this.
And that’s part of the reason I feel so emotional. For
so many years, I longed, prayed, wanted nothing more, than to experience the
feeling of a little person growing inside of me. And here I sit today,
never having imagined just how difficult, how unpleasant (yes I did just say
that), how hard this whole “wonderful experience” would be. I can’t even
believe I’m saying that. As an infertility expert, ( think I can consider
myself an expert after the years of fertility drugs, the 5 rounds of
insemination and the multiple fertility doctors that confirmed… “You are
infertile.” ), I honestly struggle with how I’m feeling. I feel so
disappointed in myself that I can’t feel overwhelming happiness. That I’m
not crying tears of pure joy of the true magnitude of this miracle. I
just can’t get there. No, not yet. I’m too bothered by how horrible
I feel.
One of the hardest things is trying to hide it, to pretend
everything is perfectly normal. The truth is, just getting out of bed is
a huge challenge. And yet, I have to “pretend” I’m my happy, cheery self
at work, with family and friends. I have to pretend to hide the fact that
I am about to be sick all over the place as I stand to talk to our
neighbors. I’ve found myself becoming more and more withdrawn. I
was always the mom to stand outside each day after school to greet the boys as
they got off the bus. I haven’t done that in weeks now. It just
seems like too much energy to walk outside. The nauseousness I feel
is so overwhelming I don’t want to talk to anyone, not even my family. I
want to lie on the couch, zone out to TV and pretend, just for a second, I
don’t feel worse than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
The kids, specifically the
boys, know something is up, but don’t ask any questions. The boys see me
lying on the couch day after day and they hear me talk about how my stomach
feels so crappy. And then there’s Isabelle, it seems to affect her more
than the others. She’s always been my shadow and she is definitely not
use to seeing me lay around like a bump on a log. Every morning she comes
to me and asks, “Mommy don’t feel good?” I tell her the same thing every
morning, “NO, honey I don’t feel well.” To which she always hugs
me. She’s also been more clingy lately. She insists on being right
next to me every second of every day. While I lay on the couch, she has
to lay with me. Yes I know, the girl who never stops moving, stops to lay
with me. And she insists on being either on top of me or as close to me
as possible. Normally I’d love her cuddling, I know that time is
dwindling, and yet, it is so hard to let her be on top. Everything from
my mouth to the bottom of my stomach hurts and while I’m not “showing” my
stomach is definitely bloated and hurts. I try to be as patient and cuddly as possible,
just sometimes I don’t feel like I want anyone near me. And by near I
mean anyone within a 500 foot radius. Again, who am I?
Earlier this week, I went to the doctor for my next
appointment. Where my last appointment was more of an information
gathering meeting, along with a blood draw, and ultrasound; this appointment
was the real deal… full exam and all. Due to my ‘advanced maternal age’
(if that doesn’t make you feel old), the doctor went over every possible
genetic screening she would recommend we do. I didn’t think Jarrett
needed to be at this appointment. I was caught off guard when she wanted me to tell her
which genetic tests we’d like to do. Yeah, I read the packet of
information she gave me last time, but I didn’t know I’d have to make decisions
so soon. I said, “To be honest, I’m still processing that this is really
happening, I’m sorry I didn’t know I needed to decide this now.” She was
understanding and said we should discuss and give them a call with our
decision. After the “inspection” that my insides are all good, the doctor
wanted to do another ultrasound to make sure everything was okay. Being
that I am like a fish out of water when it comes to pregnancy, I have no idea
what is normal, what is something to be concerned about, and what is because,
here’s my favorite word again, my ‘advanced maternal age.’ I agreed, why
would I not want to receive confirmation that everything is okay. Gosh darn
if, for how terrible I’m feeling, I sure hope this little person is loving
every minute of their all-inclusive, free resort stay. The doctor said
now that I’m 8 weeks they should be able to see everything without using the
long wand- my term not hers, and that by
rubbing the sensor on my stomach they’d be able to see it everything was
okay. At this point, I honestly could care less what way they use to
check the fetus, I feel so terrible, it isn’t like its going to make me feel
worse, and I know I’ll have my business exposed in more revealing ways in the
future, so what’s the difference? I guess a tiny bit of me appreciated
her thoughtfulness though, the pre-pregnancy Angie definitely would have
preferred that preference.
So she slapped a bunch of goo up on my bloated stomach and
started rubbing the wand (for lack of knowing what the real thing is actually
called) all around. In addition to the doctor, her nurse was in the room
and while they watched the screen carefully, I watched them. Unlike last
time, when the minute the wand was "applied", and up popped the embro (don’t
even know if I’m using the right term), this time there was nothing.
Seriously, this time it was nothing but a bunch of cloudy nothing. I looked
from the screen to Dr. B and then to her nurse. They were exchanging
glances, and I felt for the first time, something was wrong. Dr. B
continued to move things around and started sharing reassuring comments…
“I’m not very good with these ultrasounds, thank goodness I’m not an
ultrasound tech.” For the second time that visit, I wished I would have
told Jarrett to come with me. I felt my heart slow and the anxiety start
to fill my insides. My mind started to race… and immediately it went to
blaming myself… “Something bad happened because you couldn’t get happy about
this. While you focused on yourself feeling so sick, meanwhile something
bad happened to the baby.” Thankfully Dr. B interrupted the internal
fight I was having with myself and said, “this is really common for me not to
be able to see anything this way. She then decided to do the ultrasound the other way and up on the screen popped the baby, embro, fetus (whatever it technically is
at this point). Right away I was surprised by how flipping big it had
gotten from the last time. And while I starred at “it’s” size, Dr. B and
her nurse smiled and said, “Look at that strong heartbeat. Everything looks
great!” This ultrasound was a lot blurrier than the one last time and I’m
not sure if it was because it wasn’t as good of machine, the operator wasn’t as
experienced or it is was because the little acrobat was moving
constantly. I had read in the one of the many books I’ve checked out from
the library that by this week the little monster is moving, but I never thought
I’d see them doing flips. Immediately I thought of Isabelle and wondered
if all goes well with this pregnancy, if I’m going to have two runners on my hands.
After the wave of anxiety left my body, Dr. B told me to
make an appointment for 4 weeks from now and to call with any questions or
concerns. I got myself put back together and checked out. Just like
last time, everyone in the office expressed congratulations and I said “thank
you” not fully absorbing the weight of their well-wishes. It still feels
like a dream… minus the dry-heaving, never ending nauseousnes sand exhaustion.
The other side of this emotional roller coaster is trying to
figure out when to tell anyone or everyone. Jarrett received a lot of
confidence from Dr. Balk at our last appointment when she said, “After seeing a
heartbeat the chance of carrying the baby full term is around 95%.” Now
that I’m at 8 weeks and a heartbeat has been confirmed, I understand the
percentage increases to 98% but I’m still leery to shout the news from
the rooftops. Right now the only people that know, other than Jarrett and
I, is my sister MaeLyn and soon-to-be brother in law Aaron. See, our
wonderful, miraculous timing is so great in that, I will no longer be able to
be in or even attend their wedding, as I’m not allowed to travel… read.. I
could do into labor at any time. We decided we needed to tell them right
away for many reasons… a)I’m the matron of honor in their wedding, b) I’ve been
helping to plan a lot of the details, c), kind of an important thing to share,
if I can’t be there for the actual day. We decided the risk to share
wasn’t as great as the need to pass along information. Therefore, we told
them after our first ultrasound. They were extremely supportive, never
even questioning why this happened when it did. They remind me, it is a
miracle.
And now we struggle with who to tell next and when to share
the details… Jarrett wants to tell his parents soon. Actually
tomorrow. His parents have decided to sell their house, now that they are
“retired” and want to move into a retirement community. With our
surprising news, we’d like to encourage them to “move” closer to us to help
with the village of kids we will soon be parenting. It takes a village to
raise a village right? So the plan is to share the news with them
tomorrow. I made up a valentine’s day card to give them, even though we
are a few weeks “late.” Get it, it goes along with the whole theme.
Here’s a picture of the card and what it says…
So they will be the next one’s to know. And from there, we plan to wait a while to say anything else. We hope to share the news with the kids and our other family members at the beginning of the second trimester. I look forward to that day and pray the weeks between now and then, go quickly, bring me a relief from the sickness and that the baby continues to grow healthily.
Until next time,
Angie
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