Sperm Meets Egg

I started this blog to be totally anonymous.  A second blog to keep track of my thoughts and feelings during what I thought would be a long journey through pregnancy and childbirth.  I debated on whether to separate it from my “normal” blog, and now I’m so thankful that I did.  As I told friends and family about my pregnancy, I told them about this blog, but never once did I mention my name (only Mike’s, which is much more common).  Now there’s no need to be anonymous.  No need for this blog.  But I can’t take it down.  I don’t have the strength to delete it.  Or even hide it.  So if you find your way here through a search, or were following my journey as it came to an abrupt end, you can find me over here.  If you’re interested.

I have no other way of writing this than to be brutally blunt.  The baby isn’t alive.  There’s no heartbeat and no growth since my last ultrasound 2 weeks ago.

I will forever remember every detail of the “consultation room” we were ushered into after the ultrasound.  The technician of course couldn’t tell us what was going on, just that we had to wait for a doctor to review the ultrasound pictures and measurements.  Mike and I sat there for 20 minutes, and I stared at the furniture, at the light fixtures, at the carpet.  Even then, waiting, we were able to tell ourselves and each other that maybe there wasn’t a problem, that maybe our child was just . . .really small.  Developing slowly.

The doctor was straightforward with us.  His first words were, “Unfortunately, I do not have good news for you.”  After he talked to us for a few minutes, he left us alone and shut the door, allowing us to grieve for the child we’ll never get the chance to know.

It wasn’t until later that we realized that the technician didn’t point out the heartbeat during the ultrasound, like she did the last time.

And now, we’re waiting.  My surgery isn’t scheduled until Monday morning.  There was no way for them to fit us into the surgery schedule yesterday, and I have to start antibiotics the night before.  I had to get pre-op bloodwork done beforehand since my last bloodwork was done through a different doctor.

The doctor, my new doctor that I had met just once before a few days ago, was kind enough to make room in his schedule for us to talk with him.  When we got to the office, I signed in as usual, and Mike and I took a seat.  Directly across the room from us was a woman with a baby, probably only about 6 weeks old.  The next patient in the door was a woman who looked to be about 6 months pregnant.  In an effort to avoid looking at them, I stared at the wall behind the receptionist’s desk.  It was then that I heard my name whispered by one of the nurses, the sadness in her voice and in her eyes as she glanced at me and traded looks with the receptionist.  They took us back to the doctor’s office shortly after.  I think they knew that I couldn’t sit in that waiting room with pregnant women and newborn babies, with the words “not viable” repeated over and over in my head.

The problem seems to be genetic.  They’ll do testing after my procedure to hopefully get more answers.  It may have been a one-time freak occurence.  It may be a deeper problem, and maybe Mike and I aren’t meant to make babies together.  There’s a chance that they’ll be able to tell us more, and a chance that they’ll have no answers.  Limbo.

This weekend seems to be lasting forever.  We had nothing to do this weekend anyhow, but now that seems like more of a curse than a relief.  I’m counting the hours until I can get this over with.  Move on.  Try again.  In the meantime, I’m ever conscious of the baby still inside of me that doesn’t want to come out on his or her own.  That doesn’t want to let nature take it’s course.

When I miscarried two summers ago, I was only 6 or 7 weeks pregnant, and just realized that I was pregnant on the day of my miscarriage.  I didn’t have time to process the idea of being pregnant.  It was over as soon as it began in my mind.  I was upset, but I recovered quickly and was able to tell myself that it just wasn’t meant to be.

This time, it’s oh so different.  We had time to dream, to plan.  It took some time to sink in, but it became real to us.  We had weeks to think of names, to marvel at my changing body, to tell our family and friends.

Now we have to un-tell them.  I called my father yesterday.  My father, who was so excited to be a grandfather for the first time, cried when I told him.  I couldn’t talk to him for long, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay strong for more than a few minutes.  Today I have to call my grandparents.  I have to tell them that the great-grandchild that they’ve longed for for years is “not viable.”  How I hate those words.

Mike and I are exhausted from crying.  Drained–emotionally, physically, mentally.  And still, I have the nausea.  I know that it will be gone by the middle of next week, once my hormones adjust themselves.  But right now, I’m clinging to it.  I love my nausea.  I love my morning sickness.  I love that Mike and I were able to create a child and that that child made me want to gag everytime I saw hamburger.  But that nausea will go away.  Slowly, quietly fade . . .like the heartbeat of the child we created.  The child that wasn’t meant to be.

I have become the Queen of Carbs.  Meat, the thought of meat, the pictures of meat in the grocery store flyer, and even looking at a cow would probably make me sick right about now.  Last night, Mike was out with his cousin, who was in town on business.  I went upstairs at 7PM (no lie!) after eating plain egg noodles for dinner, read for half an hour, and then went to sleep.  I woke up at 9:00 when Mike called to check in on me, read for a while, and then fell back asleep.  I woke up again around midnight, wandered downstairs, and ate some watermelon.  I fell back asleep and woke up when Mike came home, although I have no idea what time that was, maybe 2:00?  Then back asleep until 6:00 this morning.

This is the life.  Eat whenever I want, sleep whenever I want.  I guess I’d better take advantage of this while I can.  If we ever have a second child, I know I won’t have the luxury of doing this and will just have to fight my way through the nausea and tiredness.

I know this is totally TMI, but I discovered a problem worse than nausea–diarrhea.  This is Day 6 in my Battle Against Diarrhea.  In everything that I’ve read, constipation is supposed to be a problem.  Once the Big D reared it’s ugly head, I did a little internet research and found that it’s not uncommon.  But by the end of the day yesterday, I was exhausted, dehydrated, and at my wit’s end.  There’s just nothing like having the runs at work.  You need me to sit in on a Very Important Meeting with some Very Important Men?  Sure, but I’ll need to bolt to the Ladie’s Room quickly and without explanation about every 10 minutes or so.  And can you please refrain from drinking coffee, because I really can’t stand the smell.  So I called the doctor’s office.  They told me to take Imodium and also to switch my prenatal vitamins.  Apparently, some have stool softeners in (am I really writing about this on the internet?) and cause diarrhea.  I’ve been taking the same vitamins for over a year now and haven’t had a problem up until now, but what the hell, I switched.  I had gotten samples from both doctors of various different kinds, so I took one of them this morning instead of my regular one.  I do feel a little better today, although not at 100%.  If nothing else, I lost a few more pounds!  As my waistline expands, maybe my arms and legs and butt will decide that they need to be smaller after all of these years.  What a bonus that would be!

I met my new doctor yesterday for the first time, and I really liked him.  It was comforting to me to know that there’s a very high chance that he’ll be the one to deliver our baby.  And the paperwork and the questions that the nurse asked me were so incredibly thorough–everything from which of my relatives had which diseases to if we want to circumsize our child if it’s a boy. 

Dr. L has ultrasound equipment in his office, which I’m sure I will love later on in my pregnancy–sure beats making a trip to the doctor’s office and then making a trip to the imaging place.  His equipment seemed much more antiquated than what Mike and I saw at the last ultrasound we went to.  The resolution was much worse and he wasn’t able to zoom in as much.  Plus the screen was smaller.  He wasn’t able to get a good angle for us to see and couldn’t hear the heartbeat, so he’s sending me to an imaging place on Friday morning to have a transvaginal ultrasound.  I was so upset about not hearing the heartbeat and not really seeing anything, but he told me that there’s no cause for alarm, and that sometimes he just can’t get a good reading with his equipment.  So keep your fingers crossed for us that all is well.  My appointment is at 8AM on Friday.  It’s literally all I can think about at this point.

9 weeks today.  I’m feeling relatively well, other than the nausea.  I’m dizzy a lot, even though my iron is fine, so my doctor told me that it’s just hormones.  I’m also cold a lot and have trouble getting warm, which is strange.  I’m one of those people who’s constantly fiddling with the thermostat at work in an attempt to make it cooler because I’m so overheated all the time.  Now it’s totally the opposite.  And instead of sleeping in shorts and a T shirt with no socks, I’ve been sleeping in flannel PJS, socks, and a sweatshirt.  Sexy, I know.

I have a little bit of a baby bump, although it doesn’t help that my belly was pudgy to begin with.  My normal control-top pantyhose got to the point of being too restrictive (which I swear made my nausea worse), so today I wore a pair of maternity pantyhose that I had bought to wear to a wedding when I was swollen from having my appendix out 2 years ago.  I remember them being really expensive, so I need warm weather to get here quickly so that I can justify leaving my legs bare for work.  Probably not the most professional thing to do, but I think I can get away with it.  And it beats spending a fortune on maternity pantyhose!

I actually ordered some maternity clothes online this week and should get them next week.  I can get away with wearing normal shirts that have a little room in the belly, but my pants and skirts are getting too tight.  I really didn’t want to spend a lot of money on maternity clothes, especially since this may be the only child we ever have.  I did get some good deals from Gap and Ann Taylor Loft plus I had coupons for 20% off for both.  I tried to buy a few essential things and clothes that could be layered.  Everything’s black, white, or khaki so that I can mix and match.  I was already joking around with two of my co-workers that know that I’m pregnant that it’s going to be one boring, repetitive summer as far as my wardrobe is concerned.

I also ordered a Bella Band, which I’m really excited about.  Hopefully it will allow me to wear my normal clothes for quite some time and just leave them unbuttoned.  I guess I didn’t really expect to show at all for awhile yet.  I know I don’t actually look pregnant–just fat(ter)–but I was hoping that I had at least a few more weeks before my belly started to expand.

On the topic of weight, I’ve actually lost 6 lbs since I got pregnant.  I’m still working out 2-3 times a week (with the doctor’s OK and with a modified program), but I haven’t been on the elliptical in a few weeks.  I think it’s just beacuse I’m not eating as much due to the nausea, but I’m not sure WHERE I lost those 6 lbs, especially with my ever-pudgier belly!

My next doctor’s appointment (with the new doctor!) is on Tuesday. 

Mike’s attitude has been the most surprising thing about my pregnancy so far.  I knew well ahead of time that he would be excited to be a father, but I didn’t expect such enthusiasm from him.

He’s been an absolute Godsend.  In addition to being excited about the baby, reading books that friends have given us, and tossing around prospective names with me, he’s taken it one step further–housework.  He cleans the kitchen.  He helps me fold clothes.  He carries the laundry baskets up and down the stairs.  He cooks on days when I’m too tired or can’t stand the sight of food.  He changes the paper towel holder.  He lets me nap as long and as often as I want (including most days after work and the 3-hour nap-stravaganza yesterday afternoon).  And he doesn’t wait for me to ask for his help.  And when I do ask, I only have to ask once.

I’m amazed.  I’ve often felt frustrated in the past when I look around at our house when it’s messy.  There were times that I thought I would have to do everything on my own, in addition to working full time.  Oftentimes it seems like there just aren’t enough hours in the week for me to keep up with everything, and I would feel so upset about not keeping up.  One thing that scared me about having a child was the additional mess, the deeper frustration and desperation at not being able to keep the house somewhat clean.  I knew I would feel burdened.  And probably resentful (because I’m selfish like that).

This change in Mike has made me see things differently.  I don’t feel guilty about taking a nap when I get home from work.  I know Mike will be able to pick up the slack and help out.

And those are some of the best feelings in the world–security and trust.  He’s there to take care of things while this little raspberry-sized being sucks all of the energy out of me.  Daily.

8 weeks today.  Although by the technician’s measurements, the baby is only at about 6 1/2 weeks.  I was in a panic when she first said that, but at my doctor’s apoointment afterwards, the doctor said it was no big deal.  Even though I’m as regular as clockwork, this may have been the one month that I WASN’T.  Or maybe the baby is just growing smaller than normal and 2 weeks from now he/she will have caught up.  So they want me back in 2 weeks for another ultrasound just tomake sure.

HOWEVER, I’m switching doctors, or am at least going to attempt to.  My current doctor only delivers at a hospital that’s an hour away.  I’m due on Christmas Day, right smack in the center of winter and massive traffic-causing Steeler games.  It’s nothing but a hassle waiting to happen–taking time off work for the hospital orientation, too far out of the way for my friends and co-workers to come to the hospital, Mike having to run back and forth to feed the cats, my family in town and unable to get around on their own.  Very inconvenient.  And I’m all about convenience!  Plus my current doctor’s office is a hike for Mike to get to during work–close to 30 minutes away.  And since he wants to be involved in every second of this experience (although he seemed to get a little squeamish today when he realized that they’d have to do the ultrasound VAGINALLY), I don’t want it to take him away from work for long periods of time.

A doctor was recommended to me by a friend.  This doctor–Dr. L–has a practice at the hospital closest to our house plus an officce a few miles away from our house.  It’s just him and one other doctor and not the revolving door that my current practice is.

I feel kind of bad dumping my current doctor’s office.  But I chose them based solely on their location at the time (almost 12 years ago)–they were a few miles away from my apartment and a few miles away from work.  Although I work at the same place, I’ve moved further south and Mike’s job is close to our house.  I don’t have any real ties to them–it seems like they have different doctors every year when I go for my annual exam.  I’ll just probably have to miss more work going through the same process that I’ve already been through with my current doctor.  But I’d rather switch now than later!

That’s the saga of my doctor, and a glimpse of the little booger-hanging-in-a-nostril-looking thing that will become our child.  More later!

Ultrasound at 7:30 tomorrow morning.  Can’t wait to see our little one for the first time!

Definitely my worst day of morning sickness yet. I still haven’t actually thrown up, but I constantly feel like I’m going to. As a result, I’m not eating very much or very often. If it stays like this, I can bear it for another 5 or 6 weeks. But if I start puking during work and have to run to the other side of the building in heels just to get to the bathroom, that will be a whole other story!

Even the thought of drinking water today makes me gag. This can’t be good for the baby, can it?

I’m just glad I got to enjoy my Japanese lunch and Bruster’s ice cream yesterday before I started feeling this way!