I’m five weeks pregnant today. That hardly seems like much at all, but I feel like I’ve known for a very long time. According to one of the multitude of pregnancy sites, baby is the size of a sesame seed now. Last week, baby was the size of a poppy seed. What’s in store for next week, a sunflower seed? Interesting, this comparison to seeds. Also, I really need to come up with a better nickname than “baby.”
I’ve been trying to sort out what might be legitimate pregnancy symptoms from just my body doing it’s thing. So far, my breasts are PMSy tender. I’m tired all the freakin’ time (which I keep saying is just me being lazy, but I really do hate feeling like I have no energy). For the past three days, I’ve had a little queasiness. I wouldn’t call it nausea or even morning sickness, just the feeling I get when I’ve been in the sun too long or haven’t eaten in awhile. A little food in my stomach seems to take care of it. I’m hopeful that I won’t get full-blown morning sickness. Aches and pains are manageable, but I have a tough time functioning with nausea. We’ll see.
The most worrisome symptom is the cramping I’m getting every once in awhile. It feels suspiciously like menstrual cramps, so every time I go to the bathroom I expect to see blood. Always the researcher, I’ve read that cramping is normal… but normal can feel scary. I try not to worry, but I think part of me isn’t fully committed to this pregnancy yet. I’m afraid to get my hopes up, knowing the statistics and the risks. Part of me feels guilty about that, as if I’m not really wanting to be pregnant and if I don’t want to be pregnant, maybe I can influence something “bad” to happen. They say you get irrational (crazy) during pregnancy and since that is a completely irrational thought, I guess they’re right.
But I’ve made it to week five and my symptoms are practically nonexistent. I suppose there’s a good chance this is the calm before the storm, but I can hope. I really would like to get my energy back, though. There’s so much to do and suddenly I feel like I’m on a very tight deadline.
It’s still so early in my pregnancy that I know I could be un-pregnant tomorrow. That fear stays with me. I’ve been there before. Even though the first trimester is considered the most worrisome, I imagine I will carry that lump of fear with me throughout the next eight months. How can I not? Age, previous miscarriage, fibroids—these things conspire against me.
I have gone to the bookstore three times now to look at pregnancy books. Each time, I have walked out without buying anything except the practical little guide Pregnancy Do’s and Don’ts, just because I wanted a handy reference. (Though the general consensus seems to be when in doubt to avoid most things-- and there is a lot of doubt about a lot of things.) The rest of the books scare me with all their dire warnings and grim reminders of all the things that could go wrong. Sheri said those books are called What to Expect When You’re Expecting Very Terrible Bad Things to Happen. That seems about right.
For now, I have come up with a surefire cure to ward off my fears of something bad happening: I tell someone I’m pregnant.
I had intended to wait a few weeks, at least until after my first prenatal appointment, before I started telling people. At this point, with a knot of fear in my stomach that is a hundred times larger than the tiny embryo growing below, the only thing that I will hold off on doing until after my first prenatal appointment is making this blog public. Because every time I tell someone I’m pregnant and feel their good wishes and positive energy, I feel better. Protected.
Good diet, proactive health care, regular exercise and caution in dealing with the hazards of life may be the key to a healthy, successful pregnancy, but I will take good karma, guardian angels and happy thoughts, too. Every little bit helps.
So, I’m officially pregnant according to the military health care system. After a brief appointment that included a pregnancy test and a check of my vitals, as well as verification that all the medications I’m taking are safe during pregnancy (which I already knew they were), I was sent on my way with a pamphlet printed in what looks like Comic Sans font congratulating me on my pregnancy and giving me the usual basic information as well as the usual vague, but certainly dire, warnings. In 48 hours I can schedule my first prenatal appointment.
When the charge nurse came in to give me my test results, she acted rather grim. Pushing the sheet of paper across the desk and putting her finger under the word POSITIVE, she said, “The test is positive. You’re pregnant.”
I blinked and smiled. I knew I was pregnant, of course, but couldn’t figure out why she seemed so somber. “Good!” I said, enthusiastically. I may have even added a thumbs up for emphasis.
“Oh, you’re happy about it? This is a good thing?” She said, smiling, but looking a bit confused.
“Definitely. We’ve been trying,” I told her. Then, as if to ease her discomfort, I explained how it happened on a mid-deployment getaway. It didn’t seem to make her feel any better.
“Oh. Well, I never know whether it’s a good thing or not.”
I suppose I could understand that, and her attempt at remaining neutral, but the pamphlet she gave me said “CONGRATULATIONS from the entire staff!” across the top. Talk about mixed messages.
After leaving the doctor’s office, I pondered why she would think I’d be anything but happy. I’m clearly not a fresh young Navy bride who couldn’t afford a box of diapers much less a crib. Is it because of my age? I suppose I’ll have many months to consider people’s reactions to the news that I’m expecting. At least, I hope I have these months to ponder.
The last time I was pregnant, in 1997, I didn’t make it from the pregnancy test appointment to the prenatal appointment. I had a miscarriage in between. So, now that the doctor’s office has confirmed I’m pregnant, here is my first mile marker of many to come: to make it to the first prenatal appointment.
I’ve started telling people close to me, as well as some blogging friends. I haven’t yet said anything on my blog or made this blog public, but here is what others have written. I want to keep a record of it because reading their words makes me smile. I really am pregnant.
On Sommer’s blog:
in other exciting news, a friend got some very good news and i am vicariously doing the happy dance for her. so yay her. and yay me for good news to celebrate that isn’t even mine.
On Jae’s blog:
My best pal has revealed that she is with child, knocked-up, pregnant! I’m not sure I’ve ever been so elated over such news, not even from my brother. I actually jumped up and down when I was told. I’ve caught myself smiling all day. Without permission, I called a friend just because I had to tell someone.
She is going to be a great mother. Her husband, a wonderful father. That kid will have all the love, compassion, understanding and education that she and I so wanted in our own lives.
I am barely four weeks pregnant (two weeks since conception) and already the advice is coming. The “baby” is little more than a cluster of cells hopefully embedded in my uterus and I haven’t even experienced any symptoms (except wanting to sleep all the time) and people are already offering advice.
From the baristas at Starbucks: A little caffeine won’t hurt me.
From my wonderful veterinarian, Dr. Smithey: the toxoplasmosis lecture.
From my writer friend Sommer: sleep as much as possible, babies suck your brain dry.
From my writer friend Alana: ignore all the advice I’m going to get.
From pretty much everyone: get a bigger car!
I know at some point, the well-meaning advice will start to annoy me. I will resent anyone telling me what to put in (or do to) my body, how to take care of myself, my pregnancy, my child, my life. I’m not a good advice-taker anyway. I rarely ask for it—maybe because I rarely follow it. I know my own path most of the time.
But right now I’m enjoying the advice. I’m listening and nodding and smiling in appreciation. Right now, I’m just so amazed I’m actually pregnant that the advice feels like a gift.
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