I have sat and looked at a blank Blogger scream at least 50 times in the last few days, but I just haven't been able to sit down and really type what I want- what I need
- to say. I've told Peter that I will... eventually. I've given myself goals or milestones or whatever to force myself to do it. But, all in all, I know it has to happen at the 'right' time. I just can't figure out what the right time is. More than anything else, though, I don't want the right time to slip me by. And, since I am typing and filling the screen, I suppose now might very well be the right time.
I'll wait while you pick your mouth up or shout explicatives or whatever (that was what I did, truth be told). I'm early, somewhere between 5 and 6 weeks, depending on if you base it on when I think
I may have ovulated (5w3d) or the first day of my last period (6w2d). I should find out for sure on Wednesday, when I see Dr. Bailey for my first prenatal appointment and, I'm assuming, my first ultrasound. Thus far, he considers me the latter (6w2d) since I don't know for sure when I ovulated, only that it had to be after the marathon (October 28th). We were intimate the 30th-2nd (not the entire 96 hours, you dirty minded folks) but, clearly, that was my "window". But we shall see... As Sarah says, "it only takes once" (which, I'd debated naming this post).
I started writing in a pregnancy journal on November 17th but the journey actually starts on the 13th- scratch that, it starts right after Halloween, when I had a dream about Daniel Craig (in case you've forgotten, Mr. Craig is quite the object of my pregnancy dream fantasies).
|If only I were Miss Moneypenny... They would never have to give me a raise!|
I actually mentioned to Peter when I woke up that I had this dream and he chuckled, "What? Are you pregnant?" We laughed it off.
Peter and I had decided that we would, from after the MCM until Dec. 31, 2013, have the year+ of watching the TTC train. Neither of us had any desire to get back on the train and its hairpin turns of crazy and hormonal wackiness, but we also have always wanted a huge family. We'd come to terms with being happy with our present family, but figured, post-TAC, we could at least pay attention to my cycle days, possible ovulation (my cycles are anywhere between 28 and 32 days normally), and, if we were up to it, you know... But we weren't going to plan sex into the calendar, seek out treatment or medication, or anything like that. If, by the end of 2013, we weren't pregnant, then I'd move on with getting to baby gear out of our storage and on its journey elsewhere. I'd already sold off some stuff, but still have a fair amount. Although we'd discussed this, the whole "it only takes once" or "pregnant after your first cycle trying to conceive" phrases were not anywhere on our radar.
Back to my dreams... So, no more D.C. dreams, and then we had the Lemon Run. Normally, I'm not a pre-run eater. The idea makes me sick to my stomach and my body works better when it is running at least 2-3 hours post food. But, on that Sunday, my body didn't get the memo and I was hungry. No, I was HUNGRY. I scarfed down some fruit and a bagel with cream cheese and some juice. After the race (during which I felt more tired than usual, which is saying something since I run 5 miles in my sleep), I ate an energy bar in the car and would have attacked the snacks I'd packed for the kids except that they wanted them. :) I cooked brunch and our team settled in around the table to eat, which I did (and like I'd been starving for a month). After cleaning up, it was the couch. I thought I would fall over. I was freezing, buried under blankets, and (thanks to the fire) it was a scorching 80 degrees in the house. Peter and Sarah both looked at me like I was nuts as I whined about being cold. Sarah raised an eyebrow, "Are you pregnant?"
Combined with my tired/cold/eating frenzy on Sunday, I was starting to wonder the same thing. I was so tired that I'd lay in bed but it felt like my body was electrified and it would take forever to drift off. My runs were slower than usual and I just felt deeply tired. I was thirsty (for water, which is not
my drink of choice) and when I'd gone out with some girlfriends the Saturday before the race, my margarita tasted off. My period was due on Wednesday; I knew I had a test so, I reasoned, if it wasn't there, I'd rush it along by testing.
Monday, I started to spot (albeit brown) and thought, "Ah! Stupid infertile, thinking you might
be pregnant." I got all ready to go for a full blown, Aunt Flow adventure, and went about my day. That evening, I met up with a blogger and friend who was in town and, once again, my drinks (margarita and wine) tasted off. Then the big deal: when I got home, I still had no period. The bigger deal? That night, Daniel Craig was in my dreams again. I woke up Tuesday morning with one thought: find the damn pregnancy test.
As soon as the kids were at school, I came back home and rooted around in the hall closet until I found a Dollar Store test (from a batch I'd bought back with my last miscarriage, in 2010). I peed and paced for 3 minutes. Then I picked it up and proceeded a litany of "WTF"s and "No way"s. With shaking hands, I called Peter. "There are two, f---ing lines!" I shouted. The poor man was probably wondering what store I'd gone into and why I was so ticked off about waiting in lines, but I finally explained that I was talking about a pregnancy test.
For me, the two lines is a big deal, and a rarity. I decided to go to the local drug store and buy a "real" (aka Name Brand) test. Then rush home and take it.
|Yep, that is a real 2nd line there. |
I called my GP, since I was due to have some blood work done anyway and asked her to add an hCG test to the mix. With my history, she did so and I gave blood on Wednesday. My period was due and I was hopeful for maybe 25? 30? 40? With Nicholas and Sophia, 13 days past ovulation, I was 65. With Alexander, at 14 days post, I was 40. Bobby and Maya were my rockstars with a 189 at 14dpo. My miscarriages that hung around for bloodwork never rose about 50. On Thursday, Dr. S. called me personally: 109.
I nearly puked. I was so suprised that I think I may have stuttered through the "Are you serious" that I no doubt asked her. I repeated the test on Friday and early Monday morning, one of my practice's nurses called. The result? 265.
I had hoped for 200+. I'm not usually a double-in-two-days sort of girl. I'm one of those 72 hours sort of girls, so really, anything over 190 would have been a good sign. 265 blew me out of the water. After thanking the nurse, I called Dr. B's office and made an appointment, which will happen in 4 days.
I emailed Dr. Haney at UC, and he said that he felt like things would go well for us. I'm in great shape (better shape than I have been since high school and college), and my IC was corrected by the TAC, so... As Sarah says, post-marathon me has yet to be written. Who says this can't be normal and easy? If for someone else, then why not for me? Then, Dr. B. left me a message of congratulations, so with both OBs on board, waiting is really the name of the game.
Suprisingly enough, I'm not really nervous. Once the initial shock wore off (if it has, completely), and I settled into the news after a few days, there's really a lot of hope. Still shock, but hope and faith that either this journey will be different or that, if it ends with sadness, we have enjoyed every possible moment. There have been some shocking moments, too. In the process of trying to figure when to tell the kids and even how to tell them, Maya (who has been peppering me with the requests of "Can we have a baby?"/"You should have another baby"/"I want a baby") walks up to me and puts her hand on my belly, and says "You have a baby in your belly." Maybe she overheard us, or maybe she just really is that
good. There's a light in her eyes that tells us she's been watching the world turn for centuries and sometimes, she turns it on us. Creepy at times, no doubt, but really special and magical too.
A cute Maya story: we were out running (well, I was running and pushing her in the stroller), and she informs me that she wants a baby sister. Bobby, she says, wants a baby brother. Well, someone should be happy, regardless.
From a symptoms standpoint, there's a fatigue when I'm running (regardless of the distance) that has me taking 20 second walk breaks if I need them, a balance of hunger and nausea that sees me only able to take in 1600-1800 calories without wanting to puke, the general morning/all day feelings of wanting to hurl which has led me to a new love of 7up (which is what my mom always gave us when we were sick, so I'm thinking it's a mental as well as a physical 'feel better' response), and a desire- no, a need-
to sleep whenever possible. Needless to say, there was no pigging out at Thanksgiving dinner since I could barely convince myself to eat the servings on my plate!
Cravings wise, I have to have a mini-bagel with cream cheese and protein (lox, bacon, or turkey) for breakfast, lunch is a turkey sandwich with either chips or soup, and dinner is whatever. Snacks are either more bagel/cream cheese combos or salty things, like pistacios. Love those... Lots of water, too. I can handle coffee in the morning, but just 8oz (with 2tbsp half & half, and 3 cubes of sugar, instead of black as I normally love it). I'm easily able to take down 2-3 cups of pregnancy tea, and I've been drinking a lot of water (with ice). All in all, it's pretty low key (except for the fact that I dont usually want
to eat. I suppose it's a good thing that I'm carrying a little extra, and that your 300+ calorie increase is needed most in the 2nd and 3rd trimesters.
I refuse to worry about getting to the end. I refuse to have the fear that has been such a part of my pregnancies. I know that it is going to be tough to have a pregnancy that is day-by-day my pregnancy with Nicholas and Sophia; I know that following their timeline and the entire month of February is going to be a waking nightmare at times. But, I have only this life to live. I have only what I can do. I know I am making the right choices, and that I can do no more. If history has taught me well, it's that this is all that I can do. Worrying about what might happen or worst case scenarios wont stop them from happening. It wont make us better prepared; we're war tested in that arena. So, we misewell enjoy ourselves! Nothing worth having comes easy, and you can't have the ultimate joy and love without putting yourself up against the ultimate risk and pain.
So, here's to the journey. And to the walk that we, as a family this time, seem to be taking around the labyrinth.
(Note: for pregnancy related posts, since I know there are folks who may be troubled by reading about it, I will title them with the w/d format (i.e. "6w0d", etc) to denote clearly that the subject matter will discuss pregnancy. It may discuss other things too, but pregnancy will be mentioned and discussed.)
|Check out Visembryo to find out what's going on a 6 weeks|