...and when I say "our" I mean "my"

So last night the two friends who were on to me at the skating party cornered me and I had to confess.  As much as telling them while standing in a mall with a paper plate of banana cream pie in my hand wasn’t how I pictured it, I have to say their interest and enthusiasm was very sweet and I was touched by how happy they were for me.  For sure I’ll admit the “mixed reactions” I expected so far have not been accurate at all – pretty much everyone knows now, and everyone has been (as far as I can tell) 100% happy and excited for me.  I guess you don’t know how loved you are until situations like this come up.

Earlier in the day I had had brunch with a friend (managed a whole plate of huevos rancheros!  But then had to lie down for several hours after) who has a seven year old boy and has had many subsequent miscarriages.  I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it, but she was happy for me, too, and told me she has tons of baby stuff she can give me – strollers, furniture, toys, clothes, etc etc.  I went home with visions in my head of all the awesome free stuff.  I seriously don’t think I’m going to have to buy one thing for this kid.

But the funny thing is I kind of do want to buy stuff for the kid.  I want the fun of walking into a store and personally selecting neat little things.  I can always do this for a registry of course, and that’ll be fun.  But the part of me that needs to nest wants to go out and buy stuff myself, not just take gifts and hand-me-downs.  One thing I’m determined to get is a vintage baby book.  It’s funny because I keep watching them on e-bay and then letting them pass.  There’s still a little fear in me that the minute I buy one something is going to go wrong.  It kind of reminds me of my favorite book title, “Don’t Get Too Comfortable”.  Many of the books have “The Story of Our Baby” on the cover and then pages about the father’s family tree, “Daddy Remembers” and things like that.  Not sure how to fill in those pages!  I feel like buying one and putting an asterisk next to “our” on the cover and writing “and by “our” I mean “my””.

I keep thinking I am in the clear to start planning and buying…but the reality is I do have one more major hurdle coming up Friday, the NT scan.  Now as noted I’m not particularly worried about it – I sort of plan on ignoring the results, actually – BUT it is also another confirmation that the baby is still alive and progressing properly.  I haven’t seen him/her since 8 weeks.  A lot could have gone wrong since then…but based on how nauseated I continue to feel, I just doubt it.  It is odd to be technically three months’ pregnant and have no physical signs, though, even though I know that’s normal – when you don’t show and your body, other than being tired and sick, is the same as it ever was, it’s kind of hard to believe you’re actually pregnant.  The word sticks in my throat when I say it – STILL – after having had this plan now for nearly a year, trying for a few months, a miscarriage, and now a particularly gnarly first trimester.  Still can’t really say the “p” word without it feeling very strange on my tongue.  There’s a big part of me that still feels I’m just playing at all this and none of it is really happening, like how sometimes when I leave for a trip early in the morning I pretend I’m fleeing an abusive relationship and am just escaping before “he” wakes up.  Weird, I know, but this is how I entertain myself.  Maybe I have lived alone too long.

So I keep telling myself that once I see the baby one more time I know I can relax and start planning, but I know that’s all bullshit.  There is so much more still to get through – oh yeah, and that whole “labor” thing which I am still pretending won’t ever actually happen.  I have to say I’m pleased that so far there has been minimal anxiety – I read about women completely flipping out before every test or ultrasound.  I haven’t had this; I was scared the first couple of weeks, absolutely, of miscarrying again, but then as every day went by with no bleeding I was able to relax.  And now at twelve weeks (tomorrow) I have a hard time believing something is going to go horribly wrong; the odds are just against it.  If I’m going to worry I’d rather worry about things that are likely (like labor, difficulty breastfeeding, being uncomfortable in the 3^rd trimester, etc).

I asked myself the question the other day, “are you disappointed in the way this pregnancy has gone so far?” and I have to say the answer is absolutely not.  I knew the possibility of being very sick was there – although my non-reaction to the hcg shot that time fooled me into thinking I might not react badly to pregnancy hormones.  I figure there’s a spectrum between the women who sail through with no sickness and those who vomit constantly and have to be hospitalized, and I am somewhere in the middle.  So, not good, but not the worst, either.  But I accept it as part of the deal, absolutely.  I often ask myself if I’d had a picture of how bad the nausea would be would I have gone ahead anyway…and of course the answer is yes.  A little nausea vs. never having a child?  Screw that.  I mean, this will be over one day, and like most women, I’ll forget how hard core it was and just remember it as, “yeah, I was pretty sick the first three months.”  Something tells me I may even try for #2 one day, forgetting those on-the-bathroom-floor-with-the-cardboard-thing moments.  Although I still worry about having to take care of an infant in this condition.  My poor dog hasn’t even been walked in days and last night pooed on the carpet in protest.  Still on the fence about #2 (no pun intended).

Socializing and jumping ship

Found out today that Friday’s NT scan will cost $291.  I can handle that.  I was afraid it might be thousands, in which case I would cancel and just take my chances.  It sucks that we have to make a special inquiry just to find out what things will cost – that’s my biggest complaint about Kaiser, that the doctors don’t have access to costs when they order something so you know what you’re getting into.  That stupid glucose nightmare cost me $85.  If anyone had told me one day I’d pay someone $85 to gag me with a bottle of orange glucose drink I would never have stopped laughing.

I have turned some sort of a corner with the illness.  Not that’s it’s gone away – not by a long shot – it just FEELS different.  My half sister described her morning sickness from a decade ago as having a color and a feeling – it felt sweet and sticky and with a pink and green color.  This is amazingly accurate.  For me it feels like someone takes a big paint brush and douses my head with a syrupy substance – sometimes just a light coating leaving me a little sticky; sometimes a huge glop that knocks me down on the floor, struggling to pull my limbs up out of the quick sand.  Today it’s a light coating.  As in it’s always with me, but I can go about my day.  Last night it was a huge glop and I was stuck in bed from about 6 PM.  But it’s different from before in that I no longer feel ill right from the moment I wake up (it usually hits in the evenings now), for the most part I can eat regular meals, and behind it I have *some* measure of energy and “get up and go” which has been completely absent for the last two months.  The idea of spending all day in bed is no longer appealing.  So there has been a slight turnaround, although the day that the sickly feeling leaves entirely will be one of pure jubilation, believe me!

Spent the weekend at friends’ parties, which is the most social I’ve been since my event in July.  As suspected, unfortunately my inability to participate in the physical stuff (roller skating) has tipped a few people off to my condition.  Nobody said anything to me about it, but the rumors are spreading.  Which totally sucks, but I guess I have to get over it – there will be no surprise announcements.  Now I am trying to figure out the appropriate time to sit down the few friends I want to tell privately – but that time never comes, because we’re always in groups in loud situations with lots of distractions.  I still don’t know what to do about this.  I’ll have to think of a solution.

Spent yesterday at a friend’s one-year-old’s birthday party.  And I know this friend reads this blog so please understand that I was happy to be there and had a good time, so what I’m about to say is entirely my own mental problem and has nothing to do with you and your lovely children.  But I get completely freaked out when I’m surrounded by parents and small kids.  I’ve always felt this way just because of the awkwardness factor – it’s never fun to be the one single, childless person surrounded by married couples and their progeny – but I always thought once I was pregnant and “in the game” that my feelings would change.  Nope.  In fact they’ve only escalated.  I see women ripping their child’s diaper off and I think “I don’t want to do that.”  I see mothers yelling after their kid to stop running and the kid doesn’t stop running and I think “I don’t want to do that”.  I see a mother intervening when someone else’s kid takes her kid’s toy and trying to be equitable, “let Bobby play with it for a little while,” and I think “I don’t want to do that”.  In fact, I pretty much don’t want to do anything having to do with having a  baby or a little kid.  Can’t I just give birth to a ten-year-old who can make intelligent conversation and sit quietly and read books?  Do I have to have the screaming toddler first?  Will I feel differently when it’s my own kid who I’m so in love with he could shit on the floor and I’d think it was beautiful?  I sure hope so.  Because right now I don’t want to do any of this.  It just all looks utterly exhausting and not rewarding at all.  Maybe this is the main problem of having kids when you’re older.  You’re just so invested in your own comfort and ease of experience that it’s hard to wrap your mind around being truly unselfish and sacrificing. 

It’s funny though because when I think of myself alone with my kid I have no bad feelings about it.  Feeding, teaching, singing, swimming in the pool.  It all sounds really lovely.  It’s when I think of being in groups that I start to clam up.  And yet I know it’s super important for the kid to be in groups, to be social. So it’ll probably be just an issue of me having to get over my natural shyness and fear of groups for the better good.  Or maybe not – maybe just meeting with small groups of people I really like might be the way to go.  Either way I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

Carpooled with one older lady friend of mine to Ventura Saturday and told her – she was of course completely delighted and happy for me.  She said what I so love to hear (my cousin said this to me, too), that it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever done. 

I was greeted at the kid’s party by the only other childless person there, who said, “hey, other non-baby having person.”  When one more childless person arrived she looked at me in that conspiratorial way, “we’re the only ones not in this club.”  Oh, the betrayal.  That’s what it is.  I’ve betrayed the small handful of childless women I know – I’ve jumped ship.  It’s a very strange, bittersweet feeling.

Plum

It is completely incomprehensible to me that there is a fetus the size of a plum in me.  Where is it?  Apart from a teeny tiny bit of firmness in my lower abdomen (maybe new, maybe not) there is zero indication that there is a person in me.  It will be fun when I start showing for real and can no longer explain my tummy away with a “yeah, but it kind of always looks like that.”  I for sure can’t wear any of my pants anymore, so that must mean something!

Last night I had a singing gig and a pregnant woman I barely know sat down next to me and asked how I was doing in this post-event time for me and if I had any hobbies.  I mentioned I liked to write, and she said, “well, as you know I’m pregnant, so I have a blog about that.”  It took all I could to not say, “me too!”  I did say I had a blog and was glad when she didn’t ask more about it.  I told her blogging while pregnant would be a great way to keep a record of all of her thoughts and feelings along the way.  Not that I would know anything about that.  Then another friend came over and said, “Everyone here is pregnant.  You’re pregnant (the woman I was talking to), so-and-so’s pregnant, who else is pregnant around here???”  Not me.  Nope.  As I reach for my emergency baggie of crackers.  Oh, and that roundness in my belly?  It kind of always looks like that.  It’s kind of fun hiding it from people.  I feel like a naughty teenager.

Been watching my “March 2012” board with much interest.  Since I’m due end of March (the 29^th) I am weeks behind most of the ladies, so it’s a little insight into what’s ahead of me.  In the first few weeks there were lots of miscarriages, which was scary.  But then as everyone hit the nine/ten/twelve week mark those posts pretty much stopped.  Then it was all about everyone being so sick they wanted to jump off a cliff.  I hear ya!  And it was wonderful to see I wasn’t alone in those very dark feelings.  Now everyone seems to be recovering (whew, can’t wait for that) and now they are talking about names, parenting stuff, and food that they’re suddenly interested in.  Ah, can’t wait for the second tri!  I’m so close I can taste it!

Saw also on WTE that around now all the baby’s basic functions have been established, so apart from growing, he’s pretty much DONE.  That is completely amazing to me.  I believe everyone comes into this world with their personality more or less in place, so I have been thinking lately that the baby’s probably already started forming some of who he is going to be as a person – the chemicals he’s getting from me, the sounds, the genes. 

I told my friend the other day that although the baby will be ¼ Jewish because of the dad, he wouldn’t really be Jewish because I’m not and the donor’s mom wasn’t, and you trace Jewishness by the maternal line.  My friend (a Reform Jew) said this isn’t true anymore, that this practice has been abandoned (at least in the reform movement).  I wonder if she’ll be willing to help my kid explore his heritage – I have a stepmother who is also Jewish and I’d like the kid to have exposure to that world (I’m but a shicksa so I’m no help).  Sounds funny coming from a rabid atheist like me, but I think it’s important the kid knows about his heritage, especially filling in those holes from not having his dad’s influence.  My friend and my stepmother are both very proud to be Jewish yet both don’t believe in God, which I find fascinating.  You would never in a million years have someone identify very strongly and proudly as Christian and then say, “but I don’t believe in God or the Bible or anything.”  Not a judgment, just an interesting phenomenon I’ve noticed.

Today I am going to a rollerskating birthday party in which I will not be rollerskating.  I was worried about that drive up to Ventura, but luckily an older lady friend of mine called last night and asked if I wanted to carpool.  This will also be an excellent opportunity to tell her my news.  I may tell others today if the opportunity presents itself…but it has to be right.  You need privacy, quiet, and the person’s full attention, and those times just haven’t happened much lately.

The last word on this, then on to happy stuff

I’ve been pretty astounded by the negative responses to my Judgment post.  I had no idea that as I was here just giving an honest account of my struggles with nausea for the past couple of months that people were reading them utterly disgusted with me and feeling like I’m just a big fat ingrate who doesn’t appreciate anything.  I thought the women who had been pregnant would get it (I’m certainly not alone in these symptoms) and those who hadn’t would at least understand that every step of the way there are challenges.  So, I guess when you’re suffering from infertility you’re allowed to be as scared, sad, angry, depressed as you want, but the minute you get pregnant you have to forfeit all of these feelings and be a ball of gratitude and joy every second from that day forward.  I’m sorry but that’s just not fair.

Despite my constant griping I know for a fact that I often made the point of saying that I am grateful, feel blessed, etc, it’s just really hard to connect with those feelings when you’re so sick.  And really, do any of you want to read a pregnancy blog that is nothing but “I feel so blessed, I feel so special”?  I don’t think so.  I’ve kept most of these thoughts to my private journal because it just seemed unkind to express things like that when I know so many people are struggling – it just seemed sort of, well, mean.  So maybe I shot myself in the foot by tilting everything towards the negative in order to save people’s feelings.  But really I’m just trying to give an honest account of my day-to-day experiences here, the good and the bad.  And yes I was totally blindsided by how tough this whole nausea thing has been and it’s been really, really hard for me.  Since the nausea kicked in at 10 dpo I never really had a moment to celebrate a BFP without feeling lousy.  Maybe I just have a low pain (or sickness) threshold; maybe I’m just a wuss.  I accept all of that.  I read lots of infertility blogs which have nothing but months and years of complaint and self pity, and they are entitled to every minute of it.  I just wish people would extend that same courtesy to me as a fellow human being.  This isn’t about “who has the worst problems” but “everyone has their own unique struggle”.  I have to say if you really feel no sympathy for me at all and feel like I should just suck it up and shut up, then, maybe this isn’t the blog for you.  And I mean that in the kindest way possible.  If I’m just making you mad then maybe you shouldn’t be reading.  I’d rather feel like the people who read this think, “yeah, sometimes I feel that way, too,” than “God, would she just get over herself???”

Pregnancy is very complex, physically and emotionally.  I still am not convinced I will come out of this with a healthy, happy baby.  I’ll believe it when I see it.  There is a lot of fear, a lot of worry, and mixed feelings.  I worry that I’m never going to have enough money to give my kid the life I want to give him/her, I worry that I won’t be a good mother, I worry that the kid may have mental or physical challenges that I won’t know how to handle.  I’m scared of childbirth, I’m scared of how to handle a newborn, I’m scared of all the things I have to learn to do when I am utterly clueless when it comes to anything kid or baby related.  I’m scared I won’t have that moment of amazing love that women have when they first hold their baby; I’m scared I’ll have really bad post-partum (I’m probably a prime candidate for that, honestly) and miss out on that important bonding time.  I’m scared I’ll be selfish and non-empathetic like my mother.  In fact I’m scared that despite my best efforts to the contrary, I will become my mother.  Anyone else feel that way?  Anyone?

In other news the nausea seems to have abated somewhat – the last few days have been pretty good; I actually wake up wanting to get out of bed and do stuff.  Even though there’s a thin veneer of “blech” all day it’s manageable.  I try not to take the Zofran because it has a really unpleasant side effect that’s far too disgusting to go into here.  I think also stopping the progesterone helped my energy levels.  So, all that physical stuff is looking up, yippee. 

I watched “Heartburn” today in keeping with my “all men suck” current theme.  I found it especially touching the scenes with the children and how happy the Meryl Streep character is about being a mother.  Seeing her sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” with her adorable toddler made me think, for just a moment, that it just might be ok. 

11 weeks

So, moving on from yesterday’s unpleasantness.  I’m still really annoyed by all that, but I guess all I can say about it is when your blog moves from a struggling to get pregnant blog to a pregnancy blog, you’re bound to alienate some people. 

Yesterday I had lunch with a friend (yes, me in a restaurant – things are looking up!) and told her.  She is a single woman, around 50, with no kids.  I wasn’t sure how she’d react, but I have to say I think I underestimated her.  She had nothing but pure joy for me; I didn’t pick up on any mixed feelings or jealousy or anything.  One thing I will learn to do differently is give a little preamble about “this is something I’ve been trying for a while”, etc, because I just blurted out, “well, I’m pregnant,” and the first thing she said was, “are you going to keep it?”  (again, one of the many differences of doing this as a single person – nobody would ask a married woman that!).  I rejoindered, “well, I went down to the sperm bank and got myself knocked up, so I certainly hope so!”

On the walk back to her house we had the ol’ “cry yourself to sleep or be picked up” conversation, and I have to say I’m still really confused by this stuff.  My mother was very much of the “just let her cry” generation.  I’m sure it means she got a lot more unbroken sleep than the alternative.  But I don’t know if I want to do that – a friend says when you never check in on the baby when he/she cries at night (well, except when you know they need to be fed, obviously) that the kid doesn’t “learn” to sleep, that they just give up and realize that their needs just aren’t ever going to be met.  The friend I was talking to yesterday said she knows a couple with a baby who was a great sleeper, who at a certain point became not a great sleeper, and they kept going in to pick up the baby and it got more and more frequent until they were both utterly sleep deprived and exhausted and decided to just let her cry, and soon enough she was back to normal sleep patterns.  I really don’t know what the right thing to do is in this situation – I should probably do a lot more reading about it.  On the one hand I don’t want to repeat all my mother’s parenting patterns…but at the same time I don’t want to totally indulge bad behavior, either, under the guise of being more “loving”.  Definitely something I need to look into.

There has been a new spate of “marriage gone bad” TV shows lately – which have become my guilty pleasure.  “Who the bleep did I marry?” “I married a mobster?” etc.  I think I just need all the validation I can get that no, marriage isn’t all sunshine and roses for everybody and I’m a-ok on my own.  Been re-reading “Fear of Flying” which I first read around this time last year.  I cannot tell you how much I love this book.  I have it as this month’s book club selection, and I don’t know how the ladies are going to feel about it – most people I’ve talked to who have read it said they kind of hated it.  But to me as long as you can keep it in an historical perspective (it’s pretty dated – very early 70s feminist) it’s pretty great.  Came across a passage here that I thought was particularly relevant:

“The diaphragm has become kind of a fetish for me.  A holy object, a barrier between my womb and men.  Somehow the idea of bearing his baby angers me.  Let him bear his own baby!  If I have a baby I want it to be all mine.  A girl like me, but better.  A girl who’ll also be able to have her own babies.  It is not having babies in itself which seems unfair, but having babies for men.  Babies who get their names.  Babies who lock you by means of love to a man you have to please and serve on pain of abandonment.  And love, after all, is the strongest lock.  The one that chafes hardest and wears longest.  And then I would be trapped for good.  The hostage of my own feelings and my own child.”