Telling the Fam

So around 2:30 yesterday I had the big speakerphone call with my family, and I told them.  The only one who knew I was even considering this is my sister, so it was completely out of left field.  In attendance were: my sister (half sister), her husband, her dad, his wife, their daughter, the daughter’s husband and son, my uncle (widow to my aunt), and my aunt’s two sons, my cousins. 

As expected the connection was very bad – I kept getting hung up on and couldn’t really hear anything except snatches of sentences (you know how speakerphones are; when you talk it cuts off the other side so you can’t hear if people talk at the same time).  But it went great.  After a little preamble about how much I love everyone and how my aunt’s death had a life-changing impact on me, I told them I’m eight weeks pregnant.  I heard sort of an odd muffled cacophony of screams.  Then came the inevitable question, “So, who’s the daddy?” to which I responded, “Donor number 6209.”  They asked a lot about him, and I wasn’t really prepared to answer…as you know I haven’t given much thought to the donor; all I know offhand that I can remember from reading his “long profile” back in November is about the height, weight, red hair, green eyes, and half Eastern European Jewish background, oh, and his music degree.  It occurred to me that before my genetic counseling appointment Tuesday I really should get a copy of his whole profile so that half of the question can be answered – they will want to know, especially because he’s Jewish, if he could be a carrier of various congenital disorders that go along with his heritage (and I know he’s not, that’s why I chose a Jewish donor because they test extensively for all these things – but they’ll want confirmation I’m sure).  My uncle asked what family name I was going to give the child.  Ummm…mine?  I thought that was funny.  He also said he’d be in touch with my mother in a couple of days (I didn’t know they talked) and did he want me to tell her…?  I said an emphatic NO, that I want to do it, and I hope he heard me!  It would be just AWFUL if he told my mother – a, because it would deprive me of that experience that I’m very much looking forward to, and b, she would be upset thinking I wasn’t going to tell her and would assume I’m being mean spirited, which is so not at all the case.  I would just rather tell her later when I have the sex of the baby and know everything is ok. 

They seemed very touched that I wanted to name the baby after our aunt if it’s a girl, which was nice. 

So, the cat’s out of the bag.  It was a lovely experience, even though I’m sad I couldn’t do it in person and see everyone’s reactions, hey.  You take what you can get. 

Now I feel like I can call people and check in more; since I’ve been keeping this a secret it’s been hard to talk to people because I feel like I’m always lying, which is awful.  Can’t wait to spill the beans to some friends next.  But first I have to have confirmation of the baby’s existence – got to have that heartbeat/ultrasound.  And even then maybe wait a week or two just for good measure.  The WTE “March 2012 babies” boards are CHALK FULL of women who lose their babies between eight and twelve weeks, which is horrifying to me (I’ve stopped reading those posts – way too upsetting).  I try to remind myself that many of these women have signs – bleeding, loss of symptoms, or even just a feeling that something isn’t right.  Most had spotting from the beginning, were told everything was ok, and then found out at ten weeks or whatever that the baby had stopped growing at six weeks.  I seriously doubt anything like that is going on around here.  I mean, it’s possible; anything is.  I just doubt it.

Facebook - every single woman's worst enemy

Lately I’ve been thinking about my plans for Facebook – as in, there are none.  No big announcements, no sonogram pictures as my profile picture, no constant pregnancy updates.  Mainly I came up with this concept because as a single woman I know how much it crush(ed, es) me to log on every day only to see a flood of pregnancies and engagements and weddings and “in a relationship” status updates, and don’t want to become one of those people that unintentionally makes other people feel bad.  But I think there’s more to it than just “wanting to be private” or wanting to save some infertile person’s feelings.  If I really dig deep, I am afraid I’m not going to get the kind of attention married women get and that it’ll hurt my feelings.

This thought crossed my mind as I checked in yesterday to see a married friend of mine with a three-year-old announce her second pregnancy.  Of course there were a flood of “likes” and congratulations, as there should be.  But there was something about the tone of the congratulations that gave me pause – everyone commenting on what a “beautiful family” they have, how their family will be complete, how everyone guessed they were trying again but didn’t want to say anything.  Then I pictured my own announcement – “I’m making a person” or my personal favorite, “…is having a baby to see what all the hubbub is about.”  And I pictured the responses.  Probably several of my jerkoff friends making sarcastic comments thinking it’s a joke, followed by people just posting question marks or asking me if it’s real, who’s the dad, etc.  In other words, hardly the “we’re so happy for you, you’re so blessed” comments all the married women get.  I think it would really crush me, so no, no big announcement on Facebook.  Not until the kid is here and people don’t think it’s a joke anymore.

And thinking about all of this just made me sad.  I mean, not blaming people – this is just how it is.  People won’t know how to feel about it, and it’s natural to respond with humor or shock.  Also there are people, mostly those I don’t know very well, who will judge me because of their dumbass religions.  I think it’s too much to ask that everyone chime in with “you’re so blessed!” comments when I’m single, they never thought of me as a kid person, they don’t know the situation from a one line Facebook status, and have no idea of the whole emotional journey that got me to this point.  So, no big announcement from me.

But it sucks because here is yet another facet of modern life that I am being deprived of because I’m single.  I don’t get to have the joy of tons of well wishers chiming in on my profile page, because I’m not attached to some man.  I don’t get to have people being genuinely happy for me until I sit each person down and tell them the whole story, so they then understand.  Just popping up pregnant can mean any number of things – I can bet almost everyone will think it was a onetime “oopsie” with some guy I met online or (horrors) some ex- or something; they’re going to assume it wasn’t wanted but I’m making the best of it, that it’s somehow shameful or a bad situation.  Umm….no. I have every intention of being “loud and proud” about all this – I’ll tell anyone who asks all about the donor and how I did it and why.  But then why won’t I do this on Facebook?  It’s not like anyone’s going to be downright mean to me – they are my “friends” after all, it’s not some open forum with strangers who can abuse me and then disappear.  But somehow just seeing all the pure joy that married women get in response to their pregnancy announcements and knowing it can’t possibly be that simple for me, makes me just want to avoid the whole thing.  After all, do I really need one more thing to stress out about?

In the meantime, today is the big day when I tell my whole family.  It’s been difficult because we wanted to set up some kind of Skype thing so at least we can all see each other, but my cousin doesn’t have internet at his house, so that’s out.  So now we’re trying to arrange a speakerphone deal, which sounds very unsatisfying to me – I can picture it now, not being able to hear each other, and it just being a big mess.  Part of me would rather just call people individually later, but I feel like I need to explain why I’m not there and this is the only way to do it.  I was supposed to make the call a few minutes ago but was then asked to call back in three hours.  Sigh.  So I guess now I just sit around wanting to puke figuring out exactly how to say this.  Should be interesting.  Let’s hope I get some validation today.  I really need it!

In the woods

Ok, get ready for another profoundly negative post.  For those of you who just don’t want to hear it, (and I don’t blame you – I’m sick of myself at this point), scroll forward a few weeks to when I hopefully won’t feel like this anymore.  My wish for myself is that in September I will still be pregnant and I will start to feel normal again.  I cling to this wish every minute of every day.

Had an absolutely horrible day today, the worst I’ve had in a couple of weeks.  Basically non-stop, crushing nausea from the moment I woke up until now.  Have not been able to eat or drink hardly anything.  Finally busted out my supply of Ensure drinks because I was concerned about dehydration and lack of nutrition, but even that is slow going.  Everything, but everything, makes me ill.  Not eating, eating, taking my vitamins, wearing my Sea Bands, everything.  Oh, and guess what?  I’m supposed to get up and get on an airplane tomorrow.  That’s obviously not happening.  And I am so pissed about it I could scream. 

My entire family, including my older cousin who I haven’t seen in years, is converging in Boston for a fun get together and also to scatter my aunt’s ashes which we weren’t able to do at her memorial service back in January (too cold, and my cousin couldn’t get there in time).  I have been looking forward to this trip since then, especially the joy of getting to tell everyone my little secret, and how perfect it would be since my aunt’s passing made me come up with this idea to begin with.  I know they will all be absolutely thrilled.  And guess what?  I have been robbed of this experience by this stupid, endless, crippling nausea that follows me everywhere I go.  I am so angry if I had more energy I’d break a few things around here.

In order to go tomorrow, I would have had to take my dog to the kennel today, which I didn’t.  I tried – but halfway through the half hour drive I got so sick I had to pull off the freeway and turn around and go home…using side streets, because the freeways were so packed and claustrophobic and full of construction and noxious emissions and no shoulders and closed exits that I couldn’t stand to get back on to head back south.  That whole adventure took about two and a half hours in 99 degree heat with my car’s A/C barely puttering out luke warm air.  So now I’m really stuck – if I magically wake up well tomorrow (I won’t), I can’t get on the flight because I have the dog here.  I basically have to know how I’m going to feel 24 hours before I fly, because I have to drop the dog.  And as we know predicting anything right now is totally impossible. 

Just for the record I did call Kaiser to see if I could see anyone on an emergency basis to get some kind of medication or something, ANYTHING, to make this stop, even a little bit.  But they couldn’t have been less helpful or sympathetic.  First it took about 20 minutes and repeating my full name, full address, all my phone numbers, and my insurance number three times to three different people and then being put on hold, and when I finally did get to talk to the “advice nurse” she didn’t seem to know anything about anything – I tried to explain I am eight weeks pregnant and so sick I’m at my wits end and I have to fly tomorrow, and can’t I see someone and get a prescription medication or something, and all she (and the two people before her) could do was ask a long list of questions that have nothing to do with my situation – am I having chest pains, can I stand, do I have pains in my legs.  No, I’m not having a fucking heart attack, I’m SICK, dammit!  I’ve been wanting to puke my guts out every minute of every day for the last month and I’m over it!  But no.  It was all about “eat small meals” and “take small sips of water”.  And no, they can’t help me, and there’s nobody I can see – I have to call back tomorrow morning and make an appointment with my doctor.  I don’t have a doctor.  So now I just don’t know what to do, except that nobody can help me.  Nothing works, nothing helps, I am in hell, and nobody can help me.  I’ve never felt more utterly helpless and miserable in my life.

So tomorrow I have the lovely task of calling my younger cousin and telling him I’m not coming (he got me buddy passes through his work).  My sister and I figured we could maybe find a way to set up Skype so I can at least talk to everyone – I spent HOURS tonight locating my microphone and webcam and setting them up on this computer, but I’m not even sure any of this is going to work because I’ve never used Skype on this computer before, or the microphone, or the webcam.  It will be interesting trying to get all of that going.  We’ll see.

So everyone is going to be horribly disappointed I’m not there, and I get to sit here and bake alone in this misery all weekend.  I had already ditched out of four or five social obligations because of this trip, not sure if I’m going to pretend I went or just tell everyone, once again, that I was sick.  Yes, sick for five days.  Yes.  Try to guess what that’s about. 

As you can see I have not made my peace with missing this trip, not yet.  I am still mad as a badger about it, and very worried about the business trip I have to take the very next weekend.  Missing out on that would be really devastating – costly, financially and personally, and would let down a whole lot of people who wouldn’t understand how sick I could possibly be to not just suck it up and go.  At least I have an ob appt on Monday and I will BEG them to give me the strongest drug they have, I don’t care.  I don’t even want to think about what missing that trip would mean.  Can’t even go there right now. 

All of this has lead me down some very dark paths mentally.  I don’t see anyone else having such a hard time with nausea as I am.  This can only mean a) I’ve been hit WAY harder than just about every other woman on earth with this stuff, or b) I’m just a big wuss.  I keep trying to cheer myself up and say things like, “hey, it’s only temporary,” or “at least you’re pregnant,” or “at least you know the pregnancy is good and strong and progressing.”  But I’ve got to be honest with you, I really don’t care about any of that.  None of that makes me feel better; I mean, sure, I’m glad on some abstract level that those things are true, but they mean nothing to me right now.  I’ve been thrust into some bizarre netherworld where suddenly all of my motives are being pulled into question.  I’ve been asking myself why the hell I ever thought this was a good idea, was I just trying to “keep up with the Joneses”, is this all hubris?  Am I just an egomaniac, is that why I wanted a child?  Did I just want to impress people with how awesome and independent I am?  Was this all for show, and now that it’s real I can’t handle it?  Was this all a horrible mistake?

I keep thinking about my mother and aunt and how neither of them had anything positive to say about having kids (*except for below) – they pretty much said it was just a huge pain in the ass (and I’m pretty sure neither of them were knocked out by nausea like this, either).  And I keep thinking about my mother towards the end there, when she was just so sick (for the record, she’s still alive, but I don’t think of her that way, hence the past tense) with this undiagnosed kidney problem, and how the sickness just became her and utterly changed her personality and made her lose her mind.  I feel like that’s happening to me a little.  This has been dragging on so long, and so unrelenting, that I feel like it has changed me (although only temporarily).  I’ve become very negative and fearful.  I wasn’t like this before (well, not all of the time anyway!), and I don’t like it, not one bit.  But now I do understand a bit how prolonged illness can change a person’s personality.  I get it.

So, ladies, I do apologize for all the darkness going on around here.  I know you want to hear happy stories and things to uplift you as you go through your own struggles, not my whiny bullshit.  And every time I think of Shannon and little Finn and his health troubles I feel so ashamed of myself I can actually feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment.  How dare I complain about having a normal, healthy pregnancy.  How dare I, indeed.

But from the beginning I promised this blog would be truthful.  And this is where I’m at.  Am I happy to be pregnant?  Of course.  I absolutely consider it a miracle, and despite how awful I feel, still take every day as a gift.  One more day, one more step towards the Promised Land (second trimester).  Do I look forward to this kid being here?  Yes!  I have had all kinds of fears lately that I’m not cut out to be a mother, I’m too selfish, and I’m going to suck at it.  But I do hope that once he’s here the best part of me will kick in and I’ll rise to the occasion.  I know I can do it; in my best moments I have no doubt this is the right thing and this kid is going to be so loved and treasured. 

Read a lovely post from a mom today talking about those little moments with your kids that are just indescribably wonderful – just a look, or a song shared, or a moment of joy.  I do remember my aunt telling me, “well, there are some moments of real joy when you’re raising kids.”  It’s just about the only positive thing any of the women in my family have said about childrearing, and I cling to that statement daily. 

I’m in the woods right now, for sure.  I can feel the hard earth under my feet and the ancient trees rising above me so high, blocking out all the light.  But someday I’ll be in the sunshine again.  This I know for sure.

Well, that was anticlimactic

As predicted, there was no ultrasound today, damn it.  When I asked if I could elect to have one, they looked at the clock and said no, it was too late, all the techs had gone home and it wasn’t in this building, etc etc.  Kind of reminds me of my earlier struggles with my clinic not wanting to do ultrasounds on weekends or holidays.  What are ultrasounds, anyway, some kind of highly specialized super-secret thing or something?  Jeez.  At this point I could run one on myself and know what I was looking at!

So basically today’s first visit consisted of having to drink a hideous orange drink all the way down really quickly (some kind of glucose tolerance thing), which then proceeded to make me so sick I thought I was going to die, while I had to sit there for an hour while they painstakingly typed all of the information I gave them ten days ago into the computer (umm…couldn’t you have done that ten days ago…?) and then accidentally delete everything and start all over (they were training someone).  All while I paced around the room wondering where the best corner to throw up in would be.  Then had to listen to lectures about soft cheeses and undercooked meats (I’m a 39 year old woman who got herself pregnant with frozen sperm…I think I know a thing or two about this stuff).  I asked them about my prenatals, ginger pills, B6, if they were all ok and safe, but didn’t really get any answers.  Then they told me I had to wait an additional hour before I could have my blood drawn!  This plus the disappointment of no ultrasound almost pushed me over the edge. 

So I went outside and walked around the block – and Kaiser Sunset is in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in all of Los Angeles.  I was surrounded by guys doing drug deals on bikes and homeless people camping out on church steps.  Yep, I thought to my little raspberry, this is going to be your first look at the world.  Have fun with that.  Luckily my sister called and got me out of my head a little bit and I started to feel better.  I think just saying out loud, to another person, “I’m at my wit’s end, I can’t take much more of this or I’m going to lose my mind,” somehow felt good. 

Went and did the blood and urine thing.  I expect all kinds of unpleasantness to pop up in my blood tests, considering how off my eating has been.  Whatever!

Now I’m feeling almost 100% better.  I love how this illness thing just comes and goes when it pleases.  No, I couldn’t have felt well in the office where I should have been pleasant to the people who were trying to help me but instead was a total drama queen; NOW when I’m home alone I feel all perky and ready for dinner.  Jesus Christ.

So I have my first “real” appointment on Monday; apparently this was just a bullshit one.  Monday, after I’ve already told my whole family the news, with no ultrasound to back it up.  Oh, well.  Things just didn’t go the way I wanted them to, it’s ok.  At least I survived today (barely) and did what needed to be done.  Also they said there is a prescription drug for the sickness which I will definitely look into on Monday.  There has to be some relief from this, there just has to be. 

Hitting the wall

Yesterday pretty much as I hit the “publish” button I got knocked back by a wave of nausea so intense I had to go lie down – and this continued for the day.  Today isn’t looking much better.  So whatever illusions I had that things were looking up was just wishful thinking.

I know I have no business complaining when I’m pregnant and so many women want to be, would give anything to be in my shoes.  But I have to say I’m beginning to hit the wall with this constant sickness.  Yesterday I realized it had been about a month since I last didn’t want to puke my guts out, and it will probably be at least another month before this constant sensation goes away – maybe it won’t go away until March!  I’m just tired of it.  I need to feel better now; I need to be able to cook and eat healthy food instead of snacks all the time.  I need to be able to explain to friends why I have to cancel everything.  But there’s no relief in sight.  It’s just miserable.  I never know when I’m going to feel so-so, or when I’m going to have a “really bad day” like yesterday.  It’s totally unpredictable which makes planning anything impossible. 

I am completely out of food, and was supposed to make a huge grocery trip yesterday but of course couldn’t.  I will have to go today.  Which means washing my hair which is a grease cap on my head, and putting on makeup of some kind, and getting dressed, and driving, all of which seem completely out of reach right now.  I suppose this is where a partner comes in handy – when you can’t do basic things to take care of yourself.  Again I wonder, how the hell do women work full time jobs feeling like this? I can barely muster the energy to drag the dog around the block for her walk so she won’t pee on the bed.  And yet reading other women’s stories, it sounds like I have it pretty easy – no vomiting, and I am actually able to eat and keep things down.  How do people do this?  I just don’t understand. 

So tomorrow I have my ob appointment, where hopefully we’ll do an ultrasound so I can see and/or hear the baby and at least put my fears of “missed miscarriage” or “blighted ovum” to rest (I hope).  Maybe they can give me some tips on handling nausea so I can at least make it through these two upcoming trips.  Either way, I have pretty much had it.  If this is what pregnancy is for me, you can bet I’m never doing this again; so far it’s been an absolutely miserable experience.  Obviously the women who suffer this badly, or worse, and yet go on to have more than one kid, are better women than me!

Battle fatigue

OK, I am officially out of food, so now I must finally get my act together and go out and do a huge shopping trip, which sounds about as appealing as sticking my foot under a lawnmower.  It’s mostly the hauling of the heavy bags up flights of stairs to my house that I don’t want to deal with.  I’m thinking of having my groceries delivered if I get really big later.  Something tells me the expense will be worth it. 

Yesterday all illusion of human decency broke down around here.  Up until now I made a point of always getting up, taking a shower, brushing my teeth, getting dressed, washing dishes, and walking the dog, no matter how lousy I felt.  I didn’t feel that lousy yesterday, but something in me just said “f-it” and I literally lay in bed all day and watched Netflix on my computer.  I promised myself I’d get up and be productive today, which I will (and I have to, because of the food situation).  I feel sort of ok – probably about 70%.  Definitely have felt better the last week, although far from well.  So there’s a chance I am at last on the mend as I near towards eight weeks.  However, I am a bit concerned about what a slob I’ve become, what a crappy attitude I have, and how I don’t seem to care about anything.  Is this what new moms talk about when they say “you won’t even have time to take a shower” – it’s not about the time, it’s that all human dignity flies out the window because you’re so single minded you just stop caring about anything but the health of the baby?  This I get; I’m already there.

Just about every night now I have a dream I have a miscarriage, but every day I wake up and no blood.  This of course doesn’t mean I haven’t already had a miscarriage and I just don’t know it…but I doubt that.  It’s possible but I just doubt it.  I know it’s just my subconscious doing what it’s supposed to do, act out all my anxieties in dreams.  I take these in stride.

It’s possible my lousy attitude is a direct result of lying around for weeks, being isolated, and not getting any exercise.  Also, let’s face it, being nauseated almost constantly for an entire month can start to get you down – I am definitely feeling a certain “battle fatigue” at this point.  I’m ready for some good news, I’m ready to feel better, I’m ready to be pregnant for real and not have to worry it’s all going to go away at any moment and I’ll have to start all over.  Anyway, the buck stops here – I absolutely must start reconnecting with friends now before they send the cops over to make sure I’m still alive, I need to get out and buy things and do things for the house, work on my event (what work there is right now, which is minimal), and I leave for the east coast on Thursday.  And of course Tuesday is the BIG DAY wherein I get some concept of what’s going on inside my body (I hope!) and can maybe start to relax a little and feel like this one’s going to make it.