Hey ya’ll. How’re things? I have been busy, you’d think having Piper in school would mean she needs down time on off days, right? Yeah, no. We spend a lot of time taking her places, doing crafts, and just pretty much just entertaining her. We’ve gone to museums, stores, Disneyland, the Aquarium, so many fun things with her. Now that she’s getting older, she’s just so… FUN. I love having her around. Especially since her reign as the only child will come to an end in December.
That’s right, I’m pregnant again. I got the positive test on April 4, and immediately got on progesterone supplements and a baby aspirin regimen. I decided against early monitoring, I didn’t get my betas drawn, and with my new “boosters” (the meds), I felt that I gave this pregnancy a fighting chance, and what would be, would be. I made my first prenatal appointment for May 7, and considered each day that passed without spotting or cramps a blessing. Since I found out so early (10dpo which was 3w2d), I had a looong time to wait until I was able to be sure there was something going on in there.
The progesterone supplements weren’t something I couldn’t handle, but it was hard not knowing if it was the progesterone that was making whatever symptoms I had worse, or if it was in fact, actual pregnancy symptoms. With Piper’s pregnancy, my boobs killed. They grew three sizes in what seemed to be a month. I outgrew all my bras before second tri. This time, they hurt, but not nearly as bad. This time, my nipples were affected, and they were fine last time. It’s funny, “they” say all pregnancies are different. They’re totally right. I have no idea if this baby is a boy or girl (though gut says “Boy”), so I can’t really say it’s different for different genders or not. However, unlike Piper’s pregnancy, I had all day nausea. With Piper, I had early AM throwing up (especially when brushing my teeth, ick) and late night vomiting. This time, it was a constant queasiness that didn’t go away. Usually you feel better when you eat, you know? But no, this time I would get sicker and sicker until I forced myself to eat, get a bit of relief for about 20 minutes and then it’d be back. As miserable as it was, it was a sign that things were okay. Like I mentioned above, though, I didn’t know if it was the pregnancy or the extra supplemented hormones that was doing it.
Weeks crept by and I still thought like it was going to end at any minute. I had no faith, no hope. I was terrified. Still, days passed. Until, finally, May 7 arrived. The way the practice works, is, for your first prenatal visit you get the scan first, then talk to the doctor, get your blood drawn for the first round of checks and your “Congratulations” gift bag. The last two times I was in for visits for the last pregnancy, I only got to the scans, then the disappointing chats with the doctor. I was sitting in that waiting room alone, because Paul had to work and couldn’t take any time off to be with me. I have never felt such anxiety before, as I had at that moment.
Finally, my name was called. I gave my urine sample and hesitantly went to the ultrasound room. The tech was the same who gave me bad news twice (She also gave me good news with Piper), and said, “Let’s see what we’ve got today, okay?” I climbed up on that table with my eyes glued to the screen. I had wondered what I’d do, would I naturally close my eyes until I got the all clear? Or would I stay focused on that screen until I saw confirmation that I was going to be okay? I guess I am either a masochist or had a little bit of hope left to believe I’d see something good, because my eyes never left that screen. I shakily told the tech I was really scared, and she said she had unfortunately given bad news earlier that day, so it was time for good news. I remained prone on the table, my heart hurting for that couple, since I had been there too many times myself. Finally the scan began, and I saw the sac and the little heart flickering, and a little peanut on that screen. I began to cry silently, my whole body trembling with just RELIEF. The baby was measuring two days ahead (AHEAD! The last time he was a little behind from that first scan!), heartbeat was 179, and unlike last time, I heard it. I heard it steadily powpowpowing in my head, wishing I could tape that moment. She congratulated me and helped me up, handing me a picture of our baby. That day, I sent a copy of that picture to those who have supported me over the last 9 months, finally allowing myself to feel a little bit of hope that perhaps they were right- this IS our sticky baby.