that awkward moment when you bump into someone from your parents’ church at the fertility clinic…

So yesterday, as Husband and I were waiting for the ultrasound report, a very familiar ultrasound technician was walking by. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first, and then realized it’s a woman who goes to my parents’ church!

I hid behind Husband so she wouldn’t see me, but sure enough, she smiled and said ‘hi’. She was kind enough to not carry on a conversation. And I know her professional code swears her to confidentiality. But still… awkward, right?

Now, my parents know we have been going to the fertility clinic, but they do not yet know that we’re pregnant. I know girl-from-church won’t spill the beans, but it kind of puts the pressure on to tell them sooner rather than later, just in case.

Especially since Husband took yesterday’s appointment as the okay to tell everyone. Like, his entire hockey team. I thought it still felt too early to be that public, but it’s kind of sweet that he’s excited to share the news.

Now… we just have to tell our parents… And lie about where they’ve fallen in the order of ‘people we’ve told’.

30 years old and still lying to my parents… *sigh*

and he’s a thumb-sucker!

We had our 11-week ultrasound today, which put to rest all the fears and anxieties I’ve been having. I was lucky enough to have a very friendly ultrasound technician and made a note of telling her how nervous I was feeling. Once she did a couple measurements, she reassured me everything was fine, rather than making me wait until the end of the ultrasound to know we were safe.

Here are some highlights of the appointment:

– Husband’s face as he watched Baby move around while the technician took measurements. He looked amazed, his mouth slightly agape, and his eyes never leaving the screen.

– Watching Baby on the screen. He was moving around, his little heart beating… He even sucked his thumb at one point! Luckily, we have a picture of it. And he’s so much bigger than he was two weeks ago – it’s truly astounding! It will never get old watching my alien Baby grow.

– Meeting with the doctor after the ultrasound: she basically told us that we’re in the clear. The chance of miscarriage after 10-weeks is less than 2% and remains that way for the entirety of the pregnancy. Until labour in 6-7 months, we can’t know for sure we’re coming out of this with the best present ever – a baby, but as of now, we can consider ourselves like any other pregnant couple. To this, I responded “I don’t know how to do that.” She laughed.

– I’ve “graduated” from the fertility clinic now. Today was my last appointment with the amazing doctor who helped us make a baby. This came with it’s own set of emotions as I am thrusted into the world of “just like every other pregnant woman”. I only get ultrasounds once a month for a while, and only get doctor reassurance at the same intervals. I feel like I need more attention than that, but I’ll deal with that as it comes.

When I was at the clinic waiting for the ultrasound report, I looked around at all the women in the waiting room. I was one of them – scared, sad, angry, uncertain of the future, tired of blood work and early mornings and quiet ultrasounds. I identify with those woman and I’m not sure how to move from feeling like one of them to feeling like any other pregnant woman.

Maybe it comes with time. And maybe I just need to focus on my little thumb-sucker.

this is totally normal

… is a phrase I hear from everyone these days when my panic about Baby sets in. “You’ve been through loss before so it’s totally normal to feel scared.”

Scared. That’s exactly the emotion that sums up my panic.

Acupuncturist totally calmed me down yesterday and pointed out that I have no actual reason to feel like I’ve miscarried. No spotting, no cramping. And although I didn’t spot or cramp last time, she’s right. There’s no indication that something is wrong. So despite the breakdown I had in her office (which is always embarrassing to cry in front of people who don’t know you well… or people in general to be honest), I felt better by the end of my appointment.

And guess what? It was my last acupuncture appointment, marketing the near-end of my first trimester. Crazy.

My sister-in-law also calmed my nerves. She’s a nurse who works with pregnant women all the time. She also had difficulty conceiving and at 5 months pregnant with her first child, unfortunately had a stillborn a few years ago. She suggested that if I’m finding myself very “up and down”, to rent a home doppler. That’s what she did for her second pregnancy (which resulted in the cutest nephew ever for me).

This is something I’ve been toying with for a while. I am all for renting a home doppler, but Husband thinks it’s excessive.

Here’s why I’m for:

– I found out yesterday that my normal OB-GYN is going to see me for the first time in March. MARCH. That’s SO FAR AWAY. I’ve gotten used to the security of ultrasounds every two weeks at the fertility clinic, and I worry that without the clinic, I’m being thrown into a world where no one will pay attention to me. Where I will be considered “just a normal pregnant woman” when I feel anything but “just a normal pregnant woman”. Just a normal pregnant woman hasn’t had two pregnancy losses.

– On the day of my ultrasounds so far, I’ve felt fantastic after seeing Peanut’s heartbeat. But the next day I wake up and feel like it was a false sense of security. Anything could have happened in those 24 hours and I won’t know for 2 whole weeks!! And now, without the clinic, it’ll be a whole month! Will a home doppler stop that instant panic?

– I’ve been very worried that I’m going to be scared this whole time I’m pregnant. The scared-ness makes it very easy to not enjoy this pregnancy. Which is what most women get to do. I want to enjoy my pregnancy. Will a home doppler help me do that because it will ease the panic instantly?

What do you think? Is it excessive to want reassurance regularly, or will it make this pregnancy easier to enjoy if I know everything is going okay? Thoughts?

and the panic sets in…

I’m not sure why, but I’ve pretty much convinced myself that everything has fallen apart – there’s no more baby, and I’m going to have to start from the beginning all over again. This horrible gut feeling has been accompanied by two dreams of miscarrying over the weekend.

I have no evidence or actual reason to believe this is happening, and my husband can only roll his eyes at me at this point, but I just don’t have a good feeling…

Here are the crazy things I keep doing, hoping for reassurance:

– feeling my stomach in hopes that something is “hard” – I continue to just be squishy

– mentally counting my burps – which I’m convinced has decreased in number compared to last week

– checking for spotting all the time – there is none

I won’t have confirmation either way until Wednesday at an 11-week ultrasound. Until then, I hope my acupuncturist can soothe my worries today at my appointment. She always checks my pulse and has said that pregnant women have a “slippery” pulse. Hopefully mine is still slippery.

I hope this is just pregnancy hormones!! This roller coaster of emotions (yay i’m pregnant; omg what if i’m not pregnant anymore; no it’s fine, i’m probably still pregnant; but what if…) is greying my hair.

a love letter to my snoogle

Dear Snoogle,

Meeting you last night changed my life. I know we’ve only shared one night together, but I can honestly say that I don’t know how I’ve lived without you for so long.

Love,

Me

————————————-

That’s right. My Snoogle arrived. What’s a Snoogle you ask? Go here. It will change your life.

It is essentially the most expensive pillow known to mankind, and it’s purchase was necessary because I often sleep on my stomach and I don’t want to accidentally squish Peanut (who is apparently the size of a lipstick now, but that’s just not a good nickname).

It arrived in the biggest box we’ve ever had a delivery in, and was welcomed to our bedroom immediately. Our bed is now divided as such: 1/3 Husband, 1/3 Me, 1/3 Snoogle.

To be honest, I don’t know why I waited until I got pregnant to get this thing. It’s awesome.

Ever feel a little lonely at night when your husband has his back turned to you and all you want is a little cuddle?

The Snoogle can help you. It curls around the back of your body to make you feel protected and loved.

Ever feel like you want to be Big Spoon and your husband is too sweaty at night to bother with, so you end up sleeping as far away from him as possible?

The Snoogle can help you. It can be Little Spoon.

Ever feel like your bed just isn’t cozy enough to fall asleep, so you toss around at night for what feels like hours?

The Snoogle can help you. It’s soft, and cuddly, and wraps around your entire body to make you feel loved and wanted.

My only concern is it’s impact on my marriage, but for now, I will be continuing this love affair with my Snoogle.

“so… when will you stop being crazy?” – Husband

So today, or yesterday, marks 10 weeks. 10 WEEKS. Huge milestone apparently, and according to my doc, the chances of miscarriage is now down to less than 2%.

That is, providing I’m still actually pregnant. I haven’t had an ultrasound in a week, and my next ultrasound is scheduled next Wednesday. So of course, I’m not convinced everything is alright. Which brings me to wonder… when will I be convinced?

Yesterday I called my husband in a panic asking him to comfort me and tell me everything is fine. He did, but then he followed up with ‘when exactly will you stop being crazy?’

Good question.

Part of me feels that I’m so “crazy” because it’s not public yet. Once people know, it will feel more real. Or maybe once my baby belly stops being so squishy and starts to round out. Or maybe once I feel the baby kicking. Or maybe once I’ve given birth.

I have no idea. I’ve never done this before. I hope it’s the first one.

The problem with miscarriage is that if you’ve had one or more, you’ve googled all sorts of things about it. I have scarred in my brain the stories of many women who have had pregnancy losses at 11 weeks, 14 weeks, 20 weeks, 35 weeks… So with those stories in my brain, it’s hard to convince myself I’m not like those women.

But I need to keep reminding myself that most of the time, the people who post on baby sites are people who have something to say. No one is going to post about how easy and wonderful their pregnancy is. They’re too busy enjoying it by decorating their nurseries and buying cute baby clothing!

As I’ve said before, there have been good days and very bad days. My last good day, I hung new curtains in Peanut’s nursery (a.k.a. the orange room where we store stuff). They look amazing.

Today may be a bad day, but I’m trying to turn it around.

How? By looking at ultrasound photos of other people at 10 weeks. It’s surprisingly helping my mood. I may also start a burp tally. It’s still my most prominent pregnancy symptom and lately, I’ve been worried I’m been burping less. But I think really, I’ve gotten so used to the burping that I don’t even notice it anymore. So if I start a tally, it will prove that my whole ‘OMG I’m miscarrying because I’m barely burping’ panic is for no reason.

Yup, I’m crazy. Can I blame it on pregnancy hormones?

Update: It’s only 10:47 a.m. and I’m up to 20 burps. I’ve calmed the crazy down for this morning at least…

weird pregnancy dreams

So I’ve read before that pregnant women tend to have very vivid dreams reflecting their thoughts or feelings about their pregnancy. I can confirm this is true. For the past few weeks, I’ve been having so many baby-related dreams.

Here are two memorable ones from this week:

Dream 1: What should I name my child?

Husband and I have just given birth to a baby who looks exactly like my friend’s baby at one year old. This doesn’t strike me as odd that my baby skipped his newborn phase. Husband and I decide that the best way to decide his name is to ask him and see how he reacts. “Do you want to be named Mark?” [no reaction] “Ok, how about Jeff?” [frown] “Do you want to be named Tyler?” [Baby starts laughing] “Ok, Tyler it is!” Then I woke up.

Meaning: maybe some of the names on our baby name list are too modern and we should stick to some 80’s classics.

Dream 2: How do you change a diaper?

For some reason, I was in Richard and Emily Gilmore’s house (from Gilmore Girls). And there were twin babies, about 8 months old that I was, for some reason, responsible for. They weren’t my babies, but I guess I was charged to babysit them. Who’s babies were they? I didn’t know. But one of them needed a diaper change.

It took me about an hour to change this baby’s diaper. I had no idea what I was doing and there was SOOOOO much poop. And I couldn’t get the poop off of the baby’s clothing! Then I woke up.

Meaning: I may not be a very good mom. Or, more specifically, the real-life practice I’ve had changing diapers (I changed my nephew’s diaper TWICE – that’s it!!) is not enough and I need to start practicing or my child named Tyler will sit in a puddle of his own poop.

a haiku about progesterone suppositories

Dear progesterone,
I won’t miss you when you’re gone.
You make life greasy.

I wake up for you.
I go to sleep with you.
You’re with me always.

But you are selfish.
You leak from my vagina
anytime you want.

You don’t care for me.
You ruin my underwear
and my nice bedding.

You make dear husband
afraid to come close to me
because of the grease.

I have no sex life
because you are always near.
You have changed my life.

But I am also
very grateful for you now.
You saved my baby.

So our love and hate
relationship continues
for a few more weeks.

Then I say farewell.
Maybe then I can have sex.
… If I’m not fatigued.

lessons to be learned from a dead cockatiel

When I was growing up, my family had a cockatiel. She was awesome. We trained her so she was friendly with people, would fly around the house, nibble on your earrings or necklace, sit on your shoulder while you watched t.v., etc.

After a few years of having her, she started to act really strange one day. She was sitting at the bottom of her cage instead of on a perch. She looked… fat. Well, as fat as a bird could look.

A day later, we noticed she had laid an egg. Two eggs. Four eggs by the time I came home from school. So cute – our little cockatiel was a mom… kind of. The thing about my bird’s eggs was that they weren’t fertilized, so they were never going to hatch. We left her with the eggs for a few days but noticed that she wasn’t eating or drinking properly – she just spent her days sitting on the eggs. We decided this was unhealthy, so we took the eggs away. We knew she wasn’t going to have any cocks (ha ha, because baby chickens are chicks…. So what are baby cockatiels??… Fine, henceforth I will refer to them as just baby cockatiels), so we knew we were doing the right thing.

She acted really depressed for a few days but became her normal self eventually.

A few months later, the same thing happened. She started acting strange, sitting at the bottom of her cage again. She laid 5 eggs this time, again, not fertilized. Knowing she was going to stop eating and drinking, we took the eggs away as soon as possible so she wouldn’t get attached.

Again, she was depressed for a few days, but went back to normal eventually.

A few months later, I came home from school and saw two cracked eggs at the bottom of her cage. She had laid her eggs from her perch.

She knew we were going to take her eggs away, so she detached herself from the situation.

Yes, this is a sad story. And one that, until this weekend when I thought about it, I had no appreciation for.

Having had two miscarriages that I probably mention way too frequently, this is my third “egg laying”. Just like my bird. And at the beginning of this pregnancy, I did the same thing my bird had done – detach myself from my pregnancy. Prevent myself from getting excited, making plans, etc.

Over the weeks, I’ve tried to adjust my mentality and approach. I have good days where I buy pregnancy pillows (a Snoogle – it will be delivered this week), take photos of my increasingly pudgy stomach, and talk to my belly when no one is around…

And I have bad days. Convincing myself I’ve lost the baby, feeling like my symptoms are disappearing, reminding myself not to get too excited…

But when I thought about my cockatiel over the weekend, there is one lesson from her egg laying that I realized I needed to accept.

Her eggs were never going to hatch. My egg may. Her eggs were never fertilized. Mine was. She was right to detach herself from her eggs. There were never going to be any baby cockatiels for her. I am wrong to detach myself from my pregnancy. Statistically, odds are in my favour (that sounds very Hunger Games-y).

God, I loved that bird. She added a lot of value to my life when she was with us, and now that she’s been gone for 10 years, she’s still teaching me valuable lessons.

telling people: when to?

So after yesterday’s ultrasound, I am bursting at the seams with a newfound pregnancy confidence I have never had before. I expect this to only last a few days, but while it’s here, I’m making bold decisions I was too timid and nervous to make before.

Such as: when to tell people! As per the “rule”, Husband and I decided to wait until we’ve cleared the first trimester. The only people who know are my brothers and two close friends. Our parents don’t know.

Why? Because after my first miscarriage, my mother ignorantly stated multiple times that maybe I was never pregnant at all… you know, when she was pregnant, she suffered from morning sickness, so if I didn’t have any morning sickness, maybe it was a false positive accompanied by a very delayed period?

Thanks mom.

Needless to say, I never told her about my second pregnancy or miscarriage because that’s not the kind of support that I need during a rough time.

(as you can tell, I have some mom issues)

Husband’s parents don’t live in our province, so it is easy to hide the news from them.

Yesterday, I made our first move towards accepting Peanut into our lives by setting in motion the plan to tell our parents. What’s the plan, you ask?

Well, Husband’s parents love puzzles, so we decided TWO YEARS AGO a cute way to tell them would be to have our ultrasound photo turned into a puzzle. Yesterday, I ordered the puzzles – one for each set of parents. 

The puzzles take two weeks to make, which will put us in week 11. For Husband’s parents, we’ll just sit on it for a week or two before mailing it off to them, ensuring everything is safe and sound and nestled in my uterus before placing the stamps.

My parents on the other hand dislike non-Indian-related hobbies, so puzzle-solving is not something they would ever do. But because my mom has been relatively unsupportive throughout the past two years (stating repeatedly that she’d really love a grandchild who lives in the same city as her even though she knows we’ve been actively trying to conceive, commenting on how strange it is that it is taking us so long to get pregnant because she got pregnant by accident – twice!, and not really asking how the treatments were going or even how I was doing with everything), we thought it would be funny to give them a puzzle as well.

Why? Because we know they won’t touch it. We can basically predict that they won’t even open it until we forced them to. (Our christmas gift to them from 3 years ago is still sitting in a pile of hoarded goods, untouched.)

I can picture them now – sitting beside the big clue that they’re going to be grandparents again, but not even knowing it. I can literally hear my mom asking the question she asks everytime we speak – “So, has anything happened yet?” (her version of ‘are you pregnant yet?) – with the unopened puzzle sitting on the table next to her.

Then, at the end of the first trimester, we’ll quiz them “so… did you solve the puzzle we gave you?”

When they say no, we’ll let them know that they’ve really missed out on a big surprise. And then we’ll tell them we’re pregnant. And then we’ll all have a chuckle that they could have known weeks ago.

This way, both sets of parents find out at the same time, but I get to have a little snarky satisfaction and payback for my mom’s insensitivity.

Mean? I don’t really think so. It’s all in good fun. In the end, we’re excited to tell our parents, but want to have a little fun with it at the same time.

This has been the most un-fun two-year project EVER, so we need to have ourselves a good laugh at some point.