Friday morning the doctor called and said my HcG levels were high enough that they could check via ultra sound to scan for problems. We got in there by 1:30 and everything looked good: no bleeding.
We are so relieved. As of yet, we have ahealthy, perfectly normal baby.
Almost as retribution for my worry, the baby has started making me sick. No fun, but I am so relieved to have sign of a growing baby, I don't mind too much.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
What a mess
So I am spotting- not even spotting- staining- a little pink/beige when I wipe. Terrifying naturally, but potentially harmless. Then again, potentially a sign of miscarriage especially considering I am having mestral cramps along with it. Yeah, bad signs all around.
Add to that the fact that I got into the doctors to have my first hormone levels monitored on Thursday afternoon, meaning I will have the second level taken Saturday afternoon, and given that the clinic is not open on Sunday, I would have needed to wait until Monday to get the results.
Oh, and I am on half my medication.
Ten o'clock rolls around I am completely drained. Dim the lights, raise the curtain and cue supernatural meltdown. The kind where an uneducated observer would swear they were witnessing a one-woman exorcism: hyperventilating, dry heaving, screaming, writhing, snot explosions., each moment becoming more and more buried in anger and despair.
The despair is obvious; there is nothing like being unsure whether or not your child is actually dying inside you: the massive disappointment, the feelings of inadequacy, and helplessness; it's unreal.
Then there is the anger- at myself- for not being able to hold my shit together and for keeping my husband awake. It sounds like a little thing, but seriously, it takes quite a man to stay in bed beside a woman who, from all visible evidence, may be channeling the gateway to hell.
It is ironic, but it was probably the idea that I was upsetting him that compounded the melt down: because I was desperate to control myself and not inconvenience him, I dove head first into a frustration spiral with each choke or tremble of sadness. It wasn't until I decided to go and lay on the couch by myself that I was able to quietly kick my own ass into submission.
So this morning I awake completely sheepish and grateful to my wonderful husband, who frankly sounds a little irritated with me, but understanding. I am astonished by the amount of crap this man has to put up with. I have married a saint.
I got a call from the doctor saying that I am far enough along for an ultrasound, and we will not have to wait until Monday, but will know after our appointment today. My menstrual cramps have moved from my back to my front, and I am about 60% certain that we will not be leaving with good news. It's sucks, but we'll get through it. I don't know how, but we will get through it somehow.
I think I may go back on full medication though.
Add to that the fact that I got into the doctors to have my first hormone levels monitored on Thursday afternoon, meaning I will have the second level taken Saturday afternoon, and given that the clinic is not open on Sunday, I would have needed to wait until Monday to get the results.
Oh, and I am on half my medication.
Ten o'clock rolls around I am completely drained. Dim the lights, raise the curtain and cue supernatural meltdown. The kind where an uneducated observer would swear they were witnessing a one-woman exorcism: hyperventilating, dry heaving, screaming, writhing, snot explosions., each moment becoming more and more buried in anger and despair.
The despair is obvious; there is nothing like being unsure whether or not your child is actually dying inside you: the massive disappointment, the feelings of inadequacy, and helplessness; it's unreal.
Then there is the anger- at myself- for not being able to hold my shit together and for keeping my husband awake. It sounds like a little thing, but seriously, it takes quite a man to stay in bed beside a woman who, from all visible evidence, may be channeling the gateway to hell.
It is ironic, but it was probably the idea that I was upsetting him that compounded the melt down: because I was desperate to control myself and not inconvenience him, I dove head first into a frustration spiral with each choke or tremble of sadness. It wasn't until I decided to go and lay on the couch by myself that I was able to quietly kick my own ass into submission.
So this morning I awake completely sheepish and grateful to my wonderful husband, who frankly sounds a little irritated with me, but understanding. I am astonished by the amount of crap this man has to put up with. I have married a saint.
I got a call from the doctor saying that I am far enough along for an ultrasound, and we will not have to wait until Monday, but will know after our appointment today. My menstrual cramps have moved from my back to my front, and I am about 60% certain that we will not be leaving with good news. It's sucks, but we'll get through it. I don't know how, but we will get through it somehow.
I think I may go back on full medication though.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
We have lift off!
Hey, look at that!
A big fat plus outta no where!
Damn we're good.
Although, it is still a little hard to believe. Despite feeling super bloated and being thirsty all the time, I don't really feel pregnant- no breast tenderness or morning sickness, although I guess I am really only five weeks pregnant, so we have plenty of time for all of that. I guess it just doesn't feel real yet. I was definitely more excited after I got pregnant the first time. Now I am not sure if it is that I am holding my breath until we are further along, or if it is that we really haven't told anyone yet, or if I am just sort of over the whole pregnancy thing already. God, that would be sad, because from what I hear, this could go on for quite some time.
My psychiatrist has recommended that I go off my Cymbalta for the first trimester. She didn't necessarily have any more insight on the issue, she just felt that "if I could go off them, I should". And, well, hell, I don't know what to do, so I might as well try it. The good news is she is fairly certain that going off then returning will not cause anymore damage than staying on, so I might as well give it a try.
So... yeah!
Happy baby!
A big fat plus outta no where!
Damn we're good.
Although, it is still a little hard to believe. Despite feeling super bloated and being thirsty all the time, I don't really feel pregnant- no breast tenderness or morning sickness, although I guess I am really only five weeks pregnant, so we have plenty of time for all of that. I guess it just doesn't feel real yet. I was definitely more excited after I got pregnant the first time. Now I am not sure if it is that I am holding my breath until we are further along, or if it is that we really haven't told anyone yet, or if I am just sort of over the whole pregnancy thing already. God, that would be sad, because from what I hear, this could go on for quite some time.
My psychiatrist has recommended that I go off my Cymbalta for the first trimester. She didn't necessarily have any more insight on the issue, she just felt that "if I could go off them, I should". And, well, hell, I don't know what to do, so I might as well try it. The good news is she is fairly certain that going off then returning will not cause anymore damage than staying on, so I might as well give it a try.
So... yeah!
Happy baby!
Friday, January 7, 2011
I am seriously going to need to talk to the people at casting.
Ugh, this is getting ridiculous. I am not old; there is no reason I should be rapidly careening towards that stage of life wherein the majority of my time is spent complaining about health ailments or concocting conspiracy theories about the medical community. How is it that I find myself engaging in rhetoric fit for Gandpa Simpson? It just seems like doctors were more trustworthy when I...well....trusted them more. When I was a little kid I had this pediatrician who was so composed, collected, and spoke with such certainty that I suspect he got all his information directly from God. He had steel colored hair, and these patient calm blue eyes; it was like he walked out of a Norman Rockwell painting. If the man had told me that drinking Draino was my best course of action, I would have immediately done it, and I am sure that it would have worked.
Then I grew up, as all of us do, and was confronted with the wonders of the college medical clinics, wherein any and all conditions are treated with condoms.
Since leaving college, my doctor appointments more or less resemble episodes of House: no one knows anything, so they just going to shove things into me at random until I start bleeding anally.
I didn't want this; I want a sane medical history where people in lab coats make sound, infallible diagnoses in calm, resonant voices, and give simple and effective treatments. Does that happen anywhere? Because if so, why can't I be on THAT show? Why do I have to be on the show where medical staff shrugs their shoulders and wave their arms to the rhythm of set to the calliope music?
Then I grew up, as all of us do, and was confronted with the wonders of the college medical clinics, wherein any and all conditions are treated with condoms.Since leaving college, my doctor appointments more or less resemble episodes of House: no one knows anything, so they just going to shove things into me at random until I start bleeding anally.
I didn't want this; I want a sane medical history where people in lab coats make sound, infallible diagnoses in calm, resonant voices, and give simple and effective treatments. Does that happen anywhere? Because if so, why can't I be on THAT show? Why do I have to be on the show where medical staff shrugs their shoulders and wave their arms to the rhythm of set to the calliope music?
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