Thursday, May 20, 2010
Inappropriate Complaining and pics of Ella with her Food
I don't like being pregnant. Sorry. I know there is a huge population of women who would love to be able to get pregnant, and they spend massive amounts of time, energy and money trying to do so. So it sounds selfish and cruel of me to complain about the inconveniences and discomforts of pregnancy. But I'm justified. Because being able to get pregnant incredibly easily does not match well with fatal genetic issues. So let's go ahead and give me a free pass to say whatever I would like about the subject. Thanks.
This is my third pregnancy. My first two were not enjoyed by any means, but they were worth it. So I can only expect this one will be the same no matter what happens. But pregnancy is so different than I anticipated, like so many things in life. When I was a way young teenager I was so sure pregnancy would be wonderful and glowy and I was all reverent towards it. I bought a journal and wrote something ridiculous in the cover like "I can't wait until I get to experience pregnancy! I hope to save this journal to record those special sacred nine months!" Urg.
Turns out pregnancy to me isn't full of shy smiles and foot rubs and rocking in a chair in a sunny window (where I picked up that image I am not sure.)
It is immediate weight gain and exhaustion. Obviously this is a fairly common experience. But I don't even get thrilled reactions when I announce a new pregnancy. The first was announced over the phone at 5 weeks while I was at the ER having an ultrasound because I was just so sure something was wrong and I assumed that meant an ectopic pregnancy. So that stunk. Of course it only got worse 10 weeks later when tests started coming back poorly. My second, I had this incredible and SURE feeling that everything was fine, like I had nothing to worry about, so we announced it to family with happiness and Charlotte in a "big sister" t-shirt. And even though everyone cheered and acted excited, I overheard plenty of comments in the coming days and weeks that let me know that wasn't the "true" reaction. And when my testing failed to work and I refused to re-do the test...well...then I got the real doozy comments. But Ella was fine, and my Quad screen was fine, and she was fine on ultrasound, but I still didn't enjoy pregnancy, and people were still scared there would be something wrong, and I was scared of what my pregnancy meant for Charlotte, and I ate and ate and ate and gained 50 lbs and could barely get up the stairs by the end. And then I didn't really bond with Ella til she was over a month old due to all my pregnancy issues.
This pregnancy...oh man. I dreaded telling people so much I didn't tell my husband for a couple weeks. I prayed for a miscarriage. There. I said it. I told friends in tears. I said I didn't feel so great about this one. Telling my family was hell. I was so angry that this had happened in spite of my best efforts to keep it from happening. I was angry it had the potential to mess up our adoption. I was angry when people suggested I back out of our adoption because it wasn't fair to Ava to have to share me with a special needs kid when she was so young. And of course my testing came back poor, which was no surprise to me, so much that the doctor who told me the results over the phone was sure I didn't really understand what he was telling me due to my lack of sobbing and questions such as "do you know the gender?" And then of course my husband's crisis of faith when things didn't work out as expected.
So yeah, I really have a poor attitude about this pregnancy. I am still angry. I don't want to discuss it. When people mention it I say I am pretending it's not happening right now and I clam up. I'm angry that I'm so much more tired than I would be getting up in the night with Ava and I am terrified about it getting worse and worse as I get bigger and more miserable. I am terrified about going back to work in a couple weeks and being too exhausted to function and turning into a weeping mess every time I have to go on call. And I'm angry that I feel fat and tired and unhealthy. And I'm angry I feel this way. And none of this is taking into account what may happen once this baby comes.
I've had trouble sleeping the past few nights just thinking about all of this and had to get it out. I know it sounds bad. But it's where I am right now and maybe now that I've said it all, I can stop being so angry and work on finding...I don't know what. I feel I've accepted this. I even feel like everything will be fine. Zar and I were walking in the cemetery the other day and I was noticing all these old headstones of families; moms and dads and their multiple young children buried between them. And I said to Zar, "sheesh, we might as well be pioneers. We will have lost half our children." And then, for some reason, it didn't seem like that big of a deal. In a few decades it will be Zar and I buried next to two of our four daughters and if that's what it means to have everything be okay in the end, well, then that's that.