I've been delaying writing this post for months now (clearly). Every time I would start it, I just couldn't finish it. Yes, baby number 2 is on her way, and I'm very excited and happy about her arrival, but mostly I just feel guilt. Crippling guilt, all the time.
Warning, this post is about to get real, real gross.
The story begins in May, when Andy and I really started trying for baby 2. I knew it wouldn't be a cake walk with poly cystic ovaries, but I'd figure we would just try every other day. That way if I did happen to ovulate, there was always a chance. By the summer, it wasn't happening, which was really not surprising to me. It took over a year to have Charlotte, but this time I felt like I need to get pregnant so there wasn't a huge age difference between the two kids. In hindsight, we should have started earlier, but considering my last pregnancy, I just couldn't do it. Daily vomiting, followed by high blood pressure which resulted in bed rest, being so swollen that I had pitted edema in multiple ares of my body and carpel tunnel, I don't even know why I wanted to do it again. But, I had Charlotte and remembered that it was all worth it. Finally, I decided that I was going to see an infertility specialist and take matters into my own hands. After completing a bunch of test work, and the pills in my pocket to force my period, I found out of I was pregnant. I was shocked, and so very happy that I did it on my own. This feeling, that day, the happiness, the relief, is exactly why I have so much guilt.
I mentally prepared myself for throwing up everyday. During pregnancy round one, I kept waiting to feel better. 12 weeks, it will be over. Nope. 16, some people feel sick until 16. That came and left and I was still throwing up in the delivery room. Every day, I wanted to feel better and it never came. It was terrible and made things so much worse. This time, I figured if I felt better then it was great, but if not, it was ok, I survived last time, I can do it again. I'm on week 21, and just threw up my dinner. It's here to stay. Not as bad as last time, I think because I know how to handle it. It basically comes down to not eating veggies and limiting fruit. Every single time I eat a one, it comes up. I keep thinking that I should be eating veggies for the baby, and as it turns out, I really shouldn't. That's cut the throwing up down more than half, but it's still there. I still feel horrible everyday from 3 to 4 pm until I hit the pillow. After this, I will never be able to eat another ginger chew, drink another ginger ale, or eat another saltine cracker for the rest of my life. You know what else happens to you when you can't eat fruits and vegetables? Constipation and hemorrhoids. Those bad boys don't go away until the end either. This time, I know the 9 months go fast, and if I don't eat veggies for 9 months, I'll be ok after it's over. Ok, great, I can say it, I can type it, but it's still so hard. Then I feel guilty, because I wanted this so bad, and I'm so miserable.
This pregnancy I have rhinitis. Which is basically a stuffy nose for the entire time. I first thought it was a result of Charlotte going to day care, and it would pass. But 21 weeks later, my nose is still stuffed. Let me tell ya, it is way worse than throwing up everyday. I easily go through a box of Kleenex everyday. On top of that, I've had two blocked tear ducts in less than a month. So now I get to look like a pirate while I get to hug the thrown. Dude, what the hell is this shit?
I've been so worried about high blood pressure that just walking into the doctor's office is making me sweat. Like boxing, in a sauna, with a rubber suit on sweat. Blood pressure was doing pretty good for the first part, until about 4 weeks ago when I was above the threshold for normal. No more cardio for me, and now the dooming 24 urine collection tests will begin. I don't know why I didn't think this would happen again, but it did. High blood pressure in pregnancy can cause the baby to not get enough blood and nutrients, which results in a low birth weight. Not to mention you're entire body swelling up like crazy and then you get put on bed rest to avoid having a stroke. Bed rest was awful It's almost impossible for me to sit still all day. Then on top of it, how am I supposed to take care of the Tasmanian devil? Guilt. There she is again.
Once again, I'm having a hard time gaining weight during the pregnancy. I'm not loosing it, which is a huge plus, but I'm not gaining the appropriate amount. People are always telling me how tiny I am, and how good I look. That, right there, is what makes me feel the worst. The idea of not gaining weight, and looking thin in pregnancy is a good thing. While, I'm throwing up all the time, and worrying about my baby not growing. It's not a healthy way of being thin or fit, pregnant or not. Also, there is an implication that I'm not eating to keep "my figure" while pregnant. (Which a doctor has said to me), which just makes you feel like an unfit mother. More guilt.
When I try to talk about this with people, I feel like I'm just complaining. I try to limit who I tell. (Mostly, Andy and my mom). Even then, omitting certain things to certain people so they don't get the entire story. Trying not to scare women into not having children ever, because it might happen to them. Avoiding that look in someone's eyes, that they feel bad for me.
This admission is in hope that maybe someone out there is going through
the same thing, and will miraculously come across this post, and feel a
little bit better. In so many ways, I feel so alone in this process. I
know so many women who are totally fine pregnant. Yes,
uncomfortable for whatever reason, but are still happy and healthy.
Here I am, struggling, hating, and guilt ridden. Counting the days down
until this is over. Not even for a baby anymore, just to feel normal.
Struggling to tell people how excited I am to have another baby but, it just feels like I'm lying. I wanted this, wanted this so badly, that I hate myself for feeling like this, then hate myself more for letting all this negative energy consume me.
Here I am, the second half. The easier half for me. An
end in sight. The last time I will have to be pregnant. That is what
is going to have to keep me going. Every day that passes is one less
day I have to be pregnant. One day closer to normal.
