So I’m 8 weeks pregnant. I don’t really know who exactly reads this blog and how many regular followers we have yet, so I don’t know who exactly I’m announcing this to. But I’m having major writer’s block because I have been trying to keep myself from writing about the biggest thing going on in my life at the moment. This thing that I carry in the back of my mind during every minute of every day and that has made the last month an extremely challenging one. Most everyone in my life (at least those I talk to on a regular basis) know about my pregnancy by now, so it’s not like I’m keeping it a secret. But I guess I haven’t felt like announcing it on social media yet because, well, pregnancy announcements are supposed to be happy, exciting things. And I’ll be honest: I don’t feel happy or excited about it at all right now. I’ve been pregnant for a month, and all I can think, because I know this fact all too well, is that this baby could be taken away from me at any moment.
The baby is doing well so far. We have seen her heartbeat twice and she’s growing on track. There is one complication of the pregnancy that has caused some bleeding and I’m being regularly monitored for it. It’s called a subchorionic hemorrhage and it’s an evil bastard and I just want it to go away and stop wreaking emotional havoc on me. Most pregnancies with these bleeds usually turn out fine, with no harm to mom or baby. But, when you’ve heard so many times about how “most pregnancies” turn out, but haven’t found yourself in that happy boat with all the other “most pregnancies” and instead have been in the sinking titanic over and over and over again…. it’s really hard for statistics and medical professionals’ optimism to put any sort of dent in your fear and anxiety.
And by the way, if one more person tells me to “think more positively,” or “just relax” I might punch them in the face. Truly. Pregnancy hormones combined with the stress and anxiety that I’m dealing with just may turn me into a very violent person and I just might break your nose. Or burst into uncontrollable tears. It’s a toss-up. Probably not a risk you should take, either way.
Don’t get me wrong here with all this negativity. I’m grateful for this pregnancy. This baby is special and I’m already in love with it. The things we’ve gone through to get to this point have been impossibly difficult, and there were times that things were not looking good, and I thought we might never have another healthy child. I’m so incredibly lucky to have made it this far. The women I’ve met online through this journey have been my cheerleaders through it all and I couldn’t have been as strong through it all without them by my side. My family, especially my parents, have been an incredible support. They helped us by caring for RJ whenever I couldn’t and they helped us monetarily as well as just being THERE and loving us. My husband is eternally patient and supportive of me through all of it. I’m so amazingly lucky to have the opportunity to carry this pregnancy, and no matter how down and negative I get, I never forget all those wonderful things.
But some days, okay most days, those things are dwarfed by my utter exhaustion and physical misery. This is my sixth time going through the fun, fun first trimester. My third time going through it with a child to take care of. Granted, the last two times I went through it, earlier this year, were abbreviated. But I’ve been here before. I’ve been slightly sick-feeling and so unbelievably tired and still trying to deal with my toddler’s never-ending desire for constant attention and love. Add onto this a 4-week long sickness for RJ, and a cold for me a few weeks ago, and now possibly a second cold (I woke up with a sore throat this morning) and heaps and heaps of anxiety around my pregnancy, and what you’ve got is a Mama who is stretched paper-thin and doesn’t have any emotional energy left over for putting optimism and cheer out to the world.
Oh and did I mention I’m on pelvic rest because of the bleed complication? That means no sex, no exercise and no lifting. The first two are fine, because who’s got energy for that stuff right now, anyway, amiright? But no lifting??? When my sweet baby boy looks up at me those big, precious, blue eyes and says “Up, mama! up!” I have to tell him “No sweetie, I can’t pick you up right now”? When he pulls away from me in a parking lot or a crowded store, I can’t pick him up and take him where we need to go? I can’t lift him into his crib or his high chair or onto his changing table or into the car? I can’t pick up up to carry him up and down the stairs with me (because YOU KNOW how long it takes to get up and down those stairs when he’s navigating them on his own!)? I can’t lift him into a grocery cart in order to do our shopping trip or carry him home from the neighborhood park when he’s tired? The answer to all of these questions from my Reproductive Endocrinologist was “If there’s any way you can avoid it, then no.” So that has added a ridiculously challenging element to our already long and difficult days.
We are coping though. We are muddling through. My parents are helping when they can. Mr. E came home early from work one day this week to do grocery shopping and cook dinner. I’ve gotten creative. RJ has a little blue step stool now that goes everywhere for us so that he can climb into and onto things all by himself. I’ve wrung out all the extra energy from my weary body to funnel it into convincing RJ’s stubborn toddler-self to do things and go places he doesn’t necessarily want to do and go to since I can’t drag him there myself anymore. I even got him to push the laundry basket into the laundry room for me the other day, since I can’t take it there myself (note also the random stray legos that seem to be taking over our house these days):
And so, life keeps going, and I just try to take it one day at a time, and hope, each day, that my new little baby’s heartbeat is still fluttering away in there, and that we will get to bring her home with us in June.