Tomorrow, I will be ten weeks pregnant with twins. This double digit milestone is something I’ve been hopeful to reach for what seems like forever, with the next goal being, of course, 12 weeks. But even with these goals being met, I still have so long to go. And given my infertile journey and my worrying nature anyway, it just seems so hard to believe that this will continue to be my new normal.
But right now, it is, and I’m actually starting to internalize it. I’m not in a panic everyday, and I wake up each morning assuming that I’ll still be pregnant every night. So that’s good – I think I’m on the right track.
I’ve been a lot more comfortable in my newly pregnant skin in the last week and a half. Which, with that, has brought about something many of you have described after becoming pregnant – an infertile’s guilt. I don’t have, like, deep guilt by any means. I do believe that I deserve this and it was bound to happen eventually, and I feel for everyone that has had it so much worse than I ever did. However, sometimes I feel sort of sheepish. I mean it was only weeks ago that I was a hot mess, emotional, bitter and cranky. If I saw a young mom on the street with her baby, lord help me. And that was only weeks ago. If I could’ve just slapped my own face, told myself to chill, be a pleasant person and stop looking so pissed off..I don’t know. Now that I’ve slowly started to find my old self again, my old personality, I’m almost embarrassed. I get why I felt the way I did, and if something happened and I had to do it over again, I’d go right back to that place. But right now I’m happier, and it feels weird. Sometimes it feels like I shouldn’t be too happy, or at least shouldn’t show too much happiness, because people might think I’m totally nuts. Anyway, I know caring what other people think is a bad idea, but I’m just saying. I’m glad I’m happy right now and I can’t believe how miserable I have been. Talk about a personality switch.
Anyway. I’ve slowly started to figure out this new system of mine – what it likes, hates, needs, how much and how often. It only took me 10 weeks. Eating needs to be literally nonstop, meals need to have protein, and Zofran needs to be taken at 6, noon, and 6 again to keep nausea at least somewhat under control. Sometimes, at night, when there isn’t a single food I could eat that could help the nausea and I’ve given the yogurt spoon many tries, sleep is the only cure. When I’m super nauseous, I shiver like I’ve got a fever of 102. Green apples are always a sure bet, along with anything moist. No crackers, toast, or dry meats for me. Yuck. Instead of all-day nausea, I’d call it more like all-day minus about three hours. This is an improvement. Water is my best friend, along with root beer because it masks the horrible taste of Zofran. If I go to bed too early (like 8-8:30), I wake up super easily all through the night, and lie there awake needing to pee and feeling crappy but too lazy to get up. But if I go to bed too late (10:00 last night), after lying down for 10 minutes or so I get the hunger-nausea, and it is bad enough that I yank out my retainer (sexy, I know) and stuff gluten-free puffins cereal with almond milk down my throat. So many rules, and when it comes to food, I’ve made some advances.
One thing I haven’t figured out is my body. I mean, I’m extremely bloated and maybe that means showing a little, I don’t know. But it’s not like I’m huge or anything. So why am I so instantly out of shape and out of breath from virtually everything? I had to rush around the house the other day and was painfully winded and nauseous. I brought the trash out, and was winded. Today my students cleaned their desks, and as I went from desk to desk, bending over slightly and turning my head to the side to see into them, I felt light headed and dizzy. And out of breath. Taking the dogs for a walk – our nightly ritual? Almost out of the question. No more gym for me. I figured this would all happen months from now, but I never thought so soon. It’s just weird to think about how not in control I am of my own body. Granted, I wasn’t in control when I couldn’t get pregnant either. But it feels weird.
We met with two different practitioners, made our decision, and even heard the heartbeats, which was exciting. (Did I write about this in my last post? My apologies because I can’t remember.) One was in the 170’s, and the other the 140’s. We now have our 12 week ultrasound/scan thing scheduled, and I guess we will go from there. We plan to sit down this weekend and figure out how to be as financially smart as possible from now until July. But otherwise, we have no idea what we’re doing.
For now, every day that goes by with sickness, a growing and sore chest and no problems, I thank the lucky stars and go to bed hoping for the same outcome the next day.