Last week was our 4th wedding anniversary, and for the first time in our marriage it felt like something to celebrate, instead of another painful reminder of what we still did not have.
All was well at our 20-week ultrasound appointment. As our doctor said, "this kiddo looks perfectly normal from head to toe." I had gotten myself totally worked up starting the night before the appointment, worse than I'd been in weeks. I realized that the kinda-sorta-not-even-sure movement I had started to feel a few days earlier had been absent that day, and it just tipped my nerves over the edge. Laid in bed that night, felt nothing. Stirred in the early morning hours, felt nothing. Got up for work, felt nothing. I flat out sobbed in the shower that morning, convinced that something had gone wrong, that we had lost our precious beat. I found myself imagining the appointment, getting bad news, what I would tell work, how I would tell my mom -- in a flash I was so far down this road mentally, and I was near hysterical. Everything I had been trying to suppress and manage these past few weeks just came to an ugly head.
But bless the ultrasound tech who right away eased my fears with "there's the heartbeat." And then next went in search of figuring out the gender.
It's a boy.
It took so long for this to sink in and become real. I was still on another planet just trying to calm myself down from hearing there's a heartbeat, and suddenly this abstract "pregnancy" was a real baby, a child, a boy. Right away I looked at my husband through my tears, just so happy for him, seeing him beaming like that.
It was an overwhelming and emotionally exhausting day, but I can tell that I'm doing better since, that it's helped lift some of my mental block against believing this is real. I allowed my mom to take me shopping for maternity clothes (but still shut down and stammered when she tried to ask me about having a shower, if I planned to breast feed, etc. - one step at a time, mom!). I felt sane and genuinely happy while making my way through my baby-tour of a weekend - a new niece arrived on Friday in Mr. B's family, and I had already made plans to visit 3 girlfriends (2 from my IRL support group) who had had babies recently. I was able to muster small talk with strangers who offered congratulations and asked about due dates. For the first time, I didn't stow away our ultrasound photos into a drawer, but left them out on the kitchen table, falling in love with that little nose and hint of a smile a little more each time I passed it.
The fear is still there, looming and lurking. But I've allowed myself to feel some happiness and excitement at last. December 1st is still feeling so incredibly far away, but I'm so grateful to be where we are and will do my best to just keep getting to that next day, one day at a time.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Sunday, July 15, 2012
"uhhhh..."
...is what I had to say in response to the question from my 5-year old niece yesterday, "How is the baby going to get out of you?"
We had a coming-out weekend of sorts, with annual parties for both sides of my extended family. We never really had a formal moment of "announcing" this pregnancy, but about 2 weeks ago I turned my mom loose, knowing we had these parties coming up and there's really no hiding things at this point, as much as I would want to if we could.
Saturday was a smaller group of my uncle's family on my dad's side, the one who passed away the same day as our D&C last spring. We were running a little late and arrived to everyone already congregated in the kitchen, so became an "all eyes on us" kind of entrance. I made my way around giving hugs and accepting congratulations, a bit overwhelmed, and when I got to my aunt her eyes were already welled with tears and she was holding a gift for us, which of course made me start to cry, and pretty soon everybody was tearing up. In that weird way that it's easier to share and connect about personal tragedy when the other person is going through it too, my aunt and cousins (and my uncle when he was still alive) have been particularly kind and supportive the past few years, sending us little notes and keeping us in their prayers. So it was this really nice emotional moment to share with people who loved us and "got it."
Throughout the afternoon, though, it was a constant barrage of questions. Nothing inappopriate, but just shining a big glaring spotlight on our emotional paralysis and inability to make any real plans for the future yet. "Are you going to find out the sex?" "Where will you live?" "How long will you take off work?" "What are you doing for your baby shower?" etc. etc. Had no answers for any of it and pretty much said so, which was fine for this crowd but made me realize that I needed to find my pregnant game-face for faking my way through these kind of social situations where it's all people want to talk about now, when the obvious small talk banter is the swollen belly in front of them.
The funniest and most honest conversations actually came from my 5-year old niece and nephew, my brother's twins that I love to pieces. My brother told them about it ahead of time, but I hadn't seen them in a few weeks and I came to realize that I was a bit of novelty to them -- I'm sure they've seen pregnant women before (as my niece said, "I've seen people like you, on TV") but probably assumed they just looked like that, not that they became like that after being a "normal" person first. Some excerpts:
"You look like you ate too much."
"Is there really a baby in there? For real?"
"How did it get in there?"
"How much bigger is your belly going to get? This big? Or this big?" (arms held way out in front of them)
"If this balloon is your head, then this balloon is your belly." (holding a really little balloon next to a really big balloon)
And the doozy, "How is the baby going to get out of there?"
To the last one, my first response was "go ask your mom." Then, "I'll tell you later." Then after being asked like 10 more times I said, "It's a surprise!" To which my niece said, "So when it happens you'll tell me then? You promise?" I realized later I probably should've taken the kid more seriously, but let's get real, I've barely started acknowledging this thing as real, I didn't exactly come prepared to teach the birds and the bees.
Then today we had the much bigger shindig with my mom's side (17 first cousins and all their families). I have a younger cousin who is 27 weeks pregnant, and one of those innocent giddy people on Facebook who posts ultrasound pics and frequent preggy quips which thankfully isn't currently like knives through my heart but still hard to swallow at times. But when we arrived she headed straight for me, with a "Yay! Another pregnant person!" in such an honestly excited and sweet way, that it put my cynical black heart to shame. The rest of the day, I did my best to suppress all my doubts and fears and neuroseses, and accept well wishes graciously and play the part of a normal pregnant person who actually believed a baby is going to come out of this. (Acting!)
But, the nagging fears and the overall feeling of being a fraud was still present most of this weekend. And what was foremost on my mind is that we have our 20-week ultrasound this week, our first peek as to what's really going on since our 1st trimester screening at 12.5 weeks. Praying for everything to be okay, for no dropping shoes, for no rugs being pulled out from beneath us. Still a long way to go past this week, but I've been holding my figurative breath for this one for a long time. Going numb until then, will report back soon. Deep breaths...
We had a coming-out weekend of sorts, with annual parties for both sides of my extended family. We never really had a formal moment of "announcing" this pregnancy, but about 2 weeks ago I turned my mom loose, knowing we had these parties coming up and there's really no hiding things at this point, as much as I would want to if we could.
Saturday was a smaller group of my uncle's family on my dad's side, the one who passed away the same day as our D&C last spring. We were running a little late and arrived to everyone already congregated in the kitchen, so became an "all eyes on us" kind of entrance. I made my way around giving hugs and accepting congratulations, a bit overwhelmed, and when I got to my aunt her eyes were already welled with tears and she was holding a gift for us, which of course made me start to cry, and pretty soon everybody was tearing up. In that weird way that it's easier to share and connect about personal tragedy when the other person is going through it too, my aunt and cousins (and my uncle when he was still alive) have been particularly kind and supportive the past few years, sending us little notes and keeping us in their prayers. So it was this really nice emotional moment to share with people who loved us and "got it."
Throughout the afternoon, though, it was a constant barrage of questions. Nothing inappopriate, but just shining a big glaring spotlight on our emotional paralysis and inability to make any real plans for the future yet. "Are you going to find out the sex?" "Where will you live?" "How long will you take off work?" "What are you doing for your baby shower?" etc. etc. Had no answers for any of it and pretty much said so, which was fine for this crowd but made me realize that I needed to find my pregnant game-face for faking my way through these kind of social situations where it's all people want to talk about now, when the obvious small talk banter is the swollen belly in front of them.
The funniest and most honest conversations actually came from my 5-year old niece and nephew, my brother's twins that I love to pieces. My brother told them about it ahead of time, but I hadn't seen them in a few weeks and I came to realize that I was a bit of novelty to them -- I'm sure they've seen pregnant women before (as my niece said, "I've seen people like you, on TV") but probably assumed they just looked like that, not that they became like that after being a "normal" person first. Some excerpts:
"You look like you ate too much."
"Is there really a baby in there? For real?"
"How did it get in there?"
"How much bigger is your belly going to get? This big? Or this big?" (arms held way out in front of them)
"If this balloon is your head, then this balloon is your belly." (holding a really little balloon next to a really big balloon)
And the doozy, "How is the baby going to get out of there?"
To the last one, my first response was "go ask your mom." Then, "I'll tell you later." Then after being asked like 10 more times I said, "It's a surprise!" To which my niece said, "So when it happens you'll tell me then? You promise?" I realized later I probably should've taken the kid more seriously, but let's get real, I've barely started acknowledging this thing as real, I didn't exactly come prepared to teach the birds and the bees.
Then today we had the much bigger shindig with my mom's side (17 first cousins and all their families). I have a younger cousin who is 27 weeks pregnant, and one of those innocent giddy people on Facebook who posts ultrasound pics and frequent preggy quips which thankfully isn't currently like knives through my heart but still hard to swallow at times. But when we arrived she headed straight for me, with a "Yay! Another pregnant person!" in such an honestly excited and sweet way, that it put my cynical black heart to shame. The rest of the day, I did my best to suppress all my doubts and fears and neuroseses, and accept well wishes graciously and play the part of a normal pregnant person who actually believed a baby is going to come out of this. (Acting!)
But, the nagging fears and the overall feeling of being a fraud was still present most of this weekend. And what was foremost on my mind is that we have our 20-week ultrasound this week, our first peek as to what's really going on since our 1st trimester screening at 12.5 weeks. Praying for everything to be okay, for no dropping shoes, for no rugs being pulled out from beneath us. Still a long way to go past this week, but I've been holding my figurative breath for this one for a long time. Going numb until then, will report back soon. Deep breaths...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)