I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I was laying in bed thinking how I have nothing good to blog about when I started getting emotional, all teary-eyed and brain-racy. Brain-racy leads to perfect blog material! Be warned, it’s a slightly long one.Today we are at 12 weeks 5 days, and we had our NT scan to test for Downs Syndrome. By “we” I mean Chris and I, even though he didn’t have to do anything but sit there. This would be the “good” part of my blog. The appointment literally lasted 5 minutes. The tech asked me for a urine sample before she did the ultrasound. She told me to pee in a Dixie cup. Now, I had just drank a bottle of water and a bottle of orange juice on the way over to try and counteract the Unisom I took to sleep last night, so I should be good to go, right? No. I’m guessing it was the whole peeing in a Dixie cup weirdness that was the cause. Who does that?! Anyway, we moved on to the ultrasound. The tech measured the amount of fluid behind the baby’s neck and it measured 1.4. Anything over a 3 is a higher chance of Downs. Don’t ask me “1.4 what?” because I don’t know. It could be millimeters, centimeters, or fluid ounces, I have no idea. I could Google it for you, but then I’d lose track of where I’m at. Back to the appointment- the tech checked the baby’s heart rate and it was a good 164. This is a little higher than normal, but I did just have that orange juice to try and wake it up. Little one didn’t do much but sit there on it’s back, though it did do a full body jump like a Mexican jumping bean that made me crack up laughing. The tech handed me a few pictures and sent me back to the waiting room to wait for blood work. I’d post more than one picture, but they all are identical, with the exception of the last one that just looks like a blurry blob.
Here (s)he is! 12 weeks 5 days. Little hands and little feet.
I get called back for my blood work. First stick goes in, but the blood doesn’t come out. Pump, pump, pump my fist, second stick goes in, blood comes out. It’ll be a week before we get the results. Doctor comes in, she says everything looks good, asks if I have any questions, and leaves. Now, I didn’t specifically come out and ask if my baby has a brain (if you read a few posts back you’d know about my fear and my drawn out plan just in case,) but she said everything looks good so I’m assuming yes. For those 30 minutes in the doctors office, I was calm. I was happy.
Now on to the “sad.” Once we got home, Chris said that he doesn’t think I can go through this whole pregnancy thing again. He had forgotten that he promised me we could have another baby after we buy a house, because I desperately want a nursery. Since we are moving to a two-bedroom house, we’ll have a room and the girls will have a room. Baby will sleep in our room. That means I don’t get a nursery in this house. No cutesy decorating and it makes me sad. What makes me sadder is that Chris says he doesn’t think I can go through this again. Which means, he doesn’t think he can go through it again. It’s probably a combination of my all-day sickness, my crazy hormonal mood swings, and my miscarriage and brainless fears. I’ve always wanted 4 babies: a boy, twin girls, and then another boy. I’ve had it planned out for years. Obviously, that didn’t happen and God has other plans, but I can’t accept that I’m done after only one. I feel slighted and hurt at the idea. I know it’s a while away yet, but I’m still saddened by the thought that he said no more. I guess we’ll wait and see.
Last, but not least, the “ugly” emotions.
I’ll bullet this section to make it easier to read. I know that jealousy is a bad emotion and I’m doing my best to control it. Don’t get all crazy preachy on me now.
- I am jealous of pregnant women who did not lose babies or that didn’t have to try to get pregnant.
- If I know you and you didn’t struggle, I am mad because I picture myself having yet another loss while you go on to have a happy, healthy pregnancy. I see your baby as a reminder of my sadness and pain and I am hurt and jealous.
- If I know you and you have struggled, I couldn’t be happier for you. I praise your success and pray for a healthy outcome. I know what you’ve been through and I share your joy, as well as your fears.
- If I don’t know you, this doesn’t really apply.
- I still check for blood every single time I go to the bathroom. Even though I have seen my baby growing and listened to it’s heartbeat, many times, I am still waiting for it all to end. I’ve played through it in my mind: what if?
- I am jealous of those that are pregnant and haven’t tried because they don’t necessarily worry about loss. Especially after the first trimester. They get to hide their pregnancies as long as they’d like and enjoy every minute after they go public.
- I actually get angry when people ask how things are going. Like it’s a bad omen or something. If we just don’t talk about it, then we can’t jinx it.
- I’m angry if you announce your pregnancy publically, having known the struggles and losses that I’ve suffered, and don’t have the curtsey to tell me in private, before you share it with the world. This applies mostly to before I got pregnant, but to those of you that were pregnant before I was and I’m just now finding out, consider yourself included.
- If I have congratulated you on your pregnancy after announcing mine, but you have yet to congratulate me, just know I was only being polite.
We still have 28 more weeks to go. 28 weeks of trying to keep the fears to a minimum, 28 weeks of trying to keep my jealousy at bay, 28 weeks of trying to keep my hormonal outbursts away from Chris, 28 weeks of faith and praying. Only one more week until Mason’s due date. Maybe after that my crazy will simmer down a bit. I sure as heck hope so, for everyone’s sake.