Disclaimer: If this blog doesn’t make any sense its because Steve is watching Deuce Bigelow as I’m writing this and the movie is too freaking stupid/hilarious for me to block it out completely.
I haven’t blogged in a while mostly because the last couple of weeks have been pretty uneventful. My morning sickness is gone, the dark circles under my eyes are slowly being replaced with that dewy pregnancy glow. I even had enough energy on Sunday to workout and vacuum my house all in the same day. The results of my most recent screening showed that I only had a one in 10,000 chance of giving birth to a baby with downs syndrome which is about as low as you can get. To top it all off, I’ve gained only about half the weight that I had at this point when I was pregnant with Kya. Things are going well and with the exception of feeling a little more tired than normal and some sinus issues, I feel pretty darn good.
And I can’t stand it.
Now by no means am I asking for the constant nausea and fatigue that seemed like it would never end a couple of weeks ago (Are you listening God?) But in some horribly sick and twisted way, feeling bad incessantly felt like my evidence that all was well inside. It sounds crazy, but feeling crappy to me just means that the baby, little parasite that it is, is sucking all of the life out of me and by doing so is ensuring his or her own success. Now that I’m feeling better, what evidence do I have that its doing ok in there?
It will probably be another couple of weeks before I feel it move consistently. Sometimes I talk to it or poke myself in the stomach to try to get it to “make contact”. “If you are ok in there kick twice”. It doesn’t work. No sickness, no movement, no signs. And then the anxiety starts. I know, those crazy hormones.
But then again I know that this is not the only time that I’ve felt stressed because everything was going well. I know I’m not the only person that has had a perfect day, or an uneventful week, or just a stress free time in my life that made me feel like uh-oh, things are a little too great, followed by “something is about to go horribly wrong.” It doesn’t really make any sense, but sometimes knowing that something is happening feels better than not knowing anything at all.
Yesterday we heard the heartbeat for the first time. The little beats, that sound like a sped up washing machine, gave me some temporary reassurance that all is well. For today, at least, I’m trying to enjoy where I am now and just accept that everything is ok. I’m trying to save the anxiety for a time when I really need it.
But I still can’t wait to feel those kicks……