About that writing more frequently thing…turns out I feel like a humongous pile of shit all the time. When I have a free moment during the day I choose to nap. After I put T down for the night I pop a Benadryl (unable to sleep through the night without one) and try not to vomit until it kicks in. Actually, I spend most of my time trying not to vomit. And I’m not being terribly successful about it. I’m still horking almost every day. And here’s the super glamorous thing about throwing up after you’ve given birth: you pee a little. Or at least I do. Pregnancy is one humiliation after another. I don’t do it with a lot of grace. Until the kid comes out I physically hate it. Don’t get me wrong, I want this child. I want it more than I have wanted anything. But I truly hate pregnancy.
On top of all the usual pregnancy crap it would seem I am also going crazy. Like really going crazy in a very bad way. My anxiety hasn’t been this bad in years. Zeke thinks it is the fact that I don’t have structure in my life like I did when I was pregnant with T. Working during that pregnancy did help me tremendously. But I don’t think that is it. I didn’t lose my shit like this during the miscarriage pregnancy and I was more than 10 weeks along when we found out I’d lost the baby. I think the miscarriage itself is the difference. I feel so completely frightened and unsure about what is going on with my body. Yes, I’m sick. But I was sick this fall after I’d lost the baby and before I’d found out. So clearly I just can’t trust my body. And now that we have a heartbeat, if I lose the baby, well, I actually can’t stand the thought. But I don’t know how to stop thinking it all the time.
And then this weekend I spotted a little. Twice on Saturday and once on Sunday. So the whole weekend was like an extended anxiety attack. Rather than get weepy and loud, I got quieter and quieter, which Z said he finds much more terrifying. Because when I was really ill I was basically catatonic. Z would talk to me and I would take more than a minute to even answer. He’d beg me to focus and engage him, I just couldn’t. I never want to go back there again.
This morning I called my doctor’s office. The nurse I spoke to told me to come right in without any hesitation. She said they’d do an ultrasound and make sure everything was fine. Thankfully Z had the day off work, because I couldn’t face bad news without him. And it turns out there was no bad news, everything is fine. Z said the best thing about my doctor is he didn’t just reassure us it was all cool, he told us exactly why I was bleeding and then told us exactly what would happen if there really was a problem. The cervix has much more blood flowing to it during pregnancy and the veins get bigger and more sensitive, so any time it is knocked around the edges can bleed a little. He said the vomiting causes the uterus and cervix to jerk around and that could be all the bumping needed to start a little blood flow. So puking can cause me to bleed. Didn’t see that one coming. He said if I was bleeding enough to need a pad it means I need to call right away. I know the gory details aren’t really fun reading, but I’m including them just in case anyone has the same stuff happen to them. I’d love to save someone from freaking out the way I did.
As soon as the ultrasound located the baby it was clear there was still a heartbeat. Z held T up to the screen and showed him his new sibling to be. The doctor let us hear the heartbeat again, and he kindly told us the little blob on the screen was beautiful and healthy. And we go back a week from Thursday for another quick look at that fabulous heartbeat. On Wednesday of this week I go back to my shrink. I haven’t seen her since early December; she doesn’t even know I’m pregnant. Hopefully she and I can start to get to the bottom of the crazy thing.
More of my boy on Christmas morning. Photo by Ellie Leonardsmith