170

For almost 12 weeks I have not known how to talk or write about this pregnancy.  Any initial excitement we had was quickly brushed aside by an emergency room visit and hospital stay and then weeks of unrelenting nausea and sickness that haven't subsided.  It's been easy to forget about the baby growing inside of me when so much feels so wrong.

So when I walked into my appointment with my midwife this morning and she said "How are you doing?" I didn't quite know how to answer that.  I am all at once grateful, sick, sad, excited, anxious, nauseous, and tired.  In a word- it's complicated.

This morning on my way out the door to take Jack to daycare, a huge wave of nausea hit me and I found myself hunched over the kitchen sink puking up everything but the kitchen sink.  Jack just stood there holding his graham cracker watching me with a worried look on his face.  In between heaves I looked over at him and said "It's ok buddy, mama's ok".  He smiled and just stood there until I was done.  I feel guilty for all the time I haven't spent with him these past few weeks and I hope he understands.

I know there are women who love being pregnant, who glow and cultivate perfect bumps, who don't puff up or feel and look like zombies.  God love those women, but unfortunately that ain't me.  


Let me be super clear- the issues I'm dealing with pale in comparison with what I know other women have suffered through to carry their babies.  If you haven't yet watched "Call the Midwife" on PBS, do it!  I offer up all of this pain to the pregnant women featured on that show.  I have incredible support at work, world class insurance and a network of family and friends to help me when I need them.  There is no woe-is-me here, but right now, in my own little corner of the world I'm feeling very frayed at the edges.

My midwife had me lay on the table so she could listen to the baby's heartbeat.  Up until now I haven't had the chance to hear it.  I lifted up my shirt to expose a belly full of bruises from the shots I have to give myself each day.  She pressed the Doppler machine firmly onto my pelvis and all of a sudden, there it was.

woosh woosh woosh woosh woosh woosh

"There it is!" she exclaimed.  "170!  Nice and strong."  The sad tears I fought back earlier in the appointment became happy tears as I listened to the sound of my baby's beating heart.  Underneath those bruises lies a teeny tiny baby.  None of this is his or her fault, but it's been incredibly hard to find my baby in the midst of this never-ending whirlwind of illness.  

I have realized that it's ok to be incredibly grateful for your ability to have a baby while simultaneously hating being pregnant.  You can loathe every minute of the puffiness and puke while relishing the thought of holding your newborn baby in your arms.  

I have to believe that all of this has not been too easy on this little baby either.  Jack came 11 days before his due date at the tail end of what was a pretty nasty bout of bronchitis for me.  It was a 7 hour labor and delivery.  I swear he pulled the emergency escape hatch and got the hell out of there because he was over all the coughing.  I might not always be the most glowing or gracious hostess for these babies, but I sure do love them ferociously once they're in my arms.  I just need to try extra hard to find this baby again.  She or he has had to compete with a myriad of distractions including an older brother who needs a lot from me right now.

But find this baby I will.  There's a little woosh woosh woosh in there.  It's a little piece of me and Trevor and Jack and with each woosh this baby is making its way into our lives.  And baby, we can't wait!

9/19/12- Baby's 1st ultrasound w/ heartbeat at the bottom