IT BEGINS
I expected the constipation.
I expected the bloating.
I expected the nausea.
I expected the fatigue.
But nowhere, nowhere, in the literature about pregnancy does it say that you’ll lose 50 IQ points overnight!
Poor Tom. He’s a little worried about me and I can’t say I blame him.
I’m walking into walls; putting ice cream in the pantry; losing my keys and; spitting out food at every turn.
I’m crying, for God knows what reason. Crying because my slippers are on the wrong feet; crying because I can’t understand the math associated with calculating an allocated pension; crying because I deleted the heading of this post and wanted to make it bold. Just plain crying.
It was fine a week ago.
I was a little tired and easily frustrated but now it’s all gone to hell and virtually overnight.
But it comes and goes. After a few rough days it appears as though the symptoms are starting to balance themselves out and I’m finally getting a little clarity in my thinking.
Perhaps this particular symptom of pregnancy isn’t physiological but rather purely emotional.
A week ago I was just me. Now, it’s us.
We were so looking forward to this moment and the pressure was building that when it finally happened the excitement and anticipation and angst all came crashing down.
And then I realise it's got nothing to do with pregnancy what-so-ever. I’ve got the flu and my decline into idiocy can be attributed to its onset. Aggrevating the symptoms is the fact I've chosen not to take any form of medication.
Oddly enough, because of my past experience with doctors, I don't care if they say antibiotics and panadol are safe for the baby. I've chosen to try and battle this out alone. Bearing this discomfort puts my mind at ease where as taking medication would cause me unneccesary worry.
My pregnancy concerns aside, when the flu has run it’s course then things can get back on track and I can start to face what pregnancy might do to my intellect and my sense of self.
For now I've got a stuffy nose, exhaustion, the shivers and a headache to contend with.
I've no doubt pregnancy will be a walk in the park when compared with unmedicated infected sinuses.
At least, that's what I'm hoping.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
WAITING part III
I spent the day dreaming.
Things I decided before I boarded the train to head home:
1. We’ll have a full range of tests to make sure everything’s ok.
2. We’ll tell everyone when the three months mark has passed.
3. We’ll paint the nursery pale blue and add pink if it’s a girl.
4. My breasts, really, really hurt.
But when the train pulled into the station I couldn’t help but start to shake. We’d be planning this child for years but now I worried that maybe Tom would be angry that I’d discovered I was pregnant too early in the scheme of things.
Our plan was always to delay learning of a pregnancy until I was at least six to eight week. Here I was at five weeks (now five weeks three days) pregnant and about to drop that news into Tom’s lap.
It was a long walk up the platform and by the time we left the station I was more confident that I couldn’t hold my tongue for the 30-minute walk home.
“I’ve got a present for you,” I told Tom when we hit the first suburban street past the station and set of shops. Reaching into my bag I gripped a small rattle I’d bought at the nearest junk shop just for this occasion.
We kept walking and I wanted to make it as casual as possible.
With a sweeping motion I held it in front of him and he grabbed the rattle, shook it and then just stared for a few moments.
“What’s this for?
I smiled weakly; a little unsure about how he’d react. “Well in about seven months you’ll have someone you can play with and I thought you could use that.”
He stopped walking. His eyes lit up. I honestly thought he was going to cry.
“You’re… ? Really ?”
Tom stepped forward and hugged me and I almost began to cry. Instead we started straight into practicalities.
“I’m going to need to need to book in for blood tests and ultrasounds. You’re coming to the ultrasounds, right?”
“Definitely. I’ll find a way.”
And then it was over. It’s all rush and now nothing. We have to wait another three weeks before things actually begin because it’s simply way too early to call this confirmed.
But I oscillate in my confidence.
There are times I feel invincible. There are times I am at the peak of my fitness and nothing could phase me. At these times I am 100% certain that nothing could go wrong.
Then there are moments of doubt when I realise that we’ve only really begun and there’s so far to go and so many hurdles to overcome.
Today, right now, I’m just exhausted and sore (which is normal they tell me).
For now there are six long weeks before we can tell anyone. It’s going to be a long haul, considering my inability to keep my mouth shut when I’m really happy.
But it’s enough to have our hearts broken without have to deal with the broken hearts of the entire family.
I spent the day dreaming.
Things I decided before I boarded the train to head home:
1. We’ll have a full range of tests to make sure everything’s ok.
2. We’ll tell everyone when the three months mark has passed.
3. We’ll paint the nursery pale blue and add pink if it’s a girl.
4. My breasts, really, really hurt.
But when the train pulled into the station I couldn’t help but start to shake. We’d be planning this child for years but now I worried that maybe Tom would be angry that I’d discovered I was pregnant too early in the scheme of things.
Our plan was always to delay learning of a pregnancy until I was at least six to eight week. Here I was at five weeks (now five weeks three days) pregnant and about to drop that news into Tom’s lap.
It was a long walk up the platform and by the time we left the station I was more confident that I couldn’t hold my tongue for the 30-minute walk home.
“I’ve got a present for you,” I told Tom when we hit the first suburban street past the station and set of shops. Reaching into my bag I gripped a small rattle I’d bought at the nearest junk shop just for this occasion.
We kept walking and I wanted to make it as casual as possible.
With a sweeping motion I held it in front of him and he grabbed the rattle, shook it and then just stared for a few moments.
“What’s this for?
I smiled weakly; a little unsure about how he’d react. “Well in about seven months you’ll have someone you can play with and I thought you could use that.”
He stopped walking. His eyes lit up. I honestly thought he was going to cry.
“You’re… ? Really ?”
Tom stepped forward and hugged me and I almost began to cry. Instead we started straight into practicalities.
“I’m going to need to need to book in for blood tests and ultrasounds. You’re coming to the ultrasounds, right?”
“Definitely. I’ll find a way.”
And then it was over. It’s all rush and now nothing. We have to wait another three weeks before things actually begin because it’s simply way too early to call this confirmed.
But I oscillate in my confidence.
There are times I feel invincible. There are times I am at the peak of my fitness and nothing could phase me. At these times I am 100% certain that nothing could go wrong.
Then there are moments of doubt when I realise that we’ve only really begun and there’s so far to go and so many hurdles to overcome.
Today, right now, I’m just exhausted and sore (which is normal they tell me).
For now there are six long weeks before we can tell anyone. It’s going to be a long haul, considering my inability to keep my mouth shut when I’m really happy.
But it’s enough to have our hearts broken without have to deal with the broken hearts of the entire family.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
WAITING Part II
When I walked into the doctor’s office on Tuesday I flatly declared "I'm not getting excited until it's confirmed"
My doctor smiled and flatly replied, "Well, if you're going to tell a lie like that you might want to wipe the smile off your face."
All right. I was excited about the prospect of being pregnant.
Tom and I have wanted a child right from the get-go and it’s been frustration after frustration.
Oddly enough, only when I stopped obsessing about it and stopped taking everyone's "advice", did the second blue line appear.
Yesterday morning I watched as the nurse fumbled with my paperwork. It was all I could do not to scream “hurry up” at the poor woman.
Finally she located my results. “The doctor will see you shortly,” she said.
Shortly, in doctor speech, is at least 45 minutes and only a thin piece of cardboard stood between me and the results.
“Look, it’s going to be a long wait and I’m really anxious. Smile if it’s positive and frown if it’s negative.”
Then nurse looked at me and made no noticeable change to her expression. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait for the doctor.”
Crap. I’d spent the night holding out on Tom. It would have been enough if I was disappointed but I didn’t want Tom to be disappointed as well. Instead of telling him I was grumpy and withdrawn.
“Boswell.”
I practically launched myself out of my seat and bounded after the doctor.
“So,” she said. “You’ve had some good news.”
“I don’t know yet – I haven’t seen the results.”
She closed the door behind me.
“I wasn’t asking, I’m telling you – you’ve got some good news. You’re about five weeks pregnant.”
The rest of the visit is a blur. She signed me up for ultrasounds and blood tests and told me to get plenty of sleep.
The rest of the day is a bit of a blur too but I finally managed to fumble my way through it.
All I could think was how desperately I wanted to get home and tell Tom that things were about to change.
When I walked into the doctor’s office on Tuesday I flatly declared "I'm not getting excited until it's confirmed"
My doctor smiled and flatly replied, "Well, if you're going to tell a lie like that you might want to wipe the smile off your face."
All right. I was excited about the prospect of being pregnant.
Tom and I have wanted a child right from the get-go and it’s been frustration after frustration.
Oddly enough, only when I stopped obsessing about it and stopped taking everyone's "advice", did the second blue line appear.
Yesterday morning I watched as the nurse fumbled with my paperwork. It was all I could do not to scream “hurry up” at the poor woman.
Finally she located my results. “The doctor will see you shortly,” she said.
Shortly, in doctor speech, is at least 45 minutes and only a thin piece of cardboard stood between me and the results.
“Look, it’s going to be a long wait and I’m really anxious. Smile if it’s positive and frown if it’s negative.”
Then nurse looked at me and made no noticeable change to her expression. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait for the doctor.”
Crap. I’d spent the night holding out on Tom. It would have been enough if I was disappointed but I didn’t want Tom to be disappointed as well. Instead of telling him I was grumpy and withdrawn.
“Boswell.”
I practically launched myself out of my seat and bounded after the doctor.
“So,” she said. “You’ve had some good news.”
“I don’t know yet – I haven’t seen the results.”
She closed the door behind me.
“I wasn’t asking, I’m telling you – you’ve got some good news. You’re about five weeks pregnant.”
The rest of the visit is a blur. She signed me up for ultrasounds and blood tests and told me to get plenty of sleep.
The rest of the day is a bit of a blur too but I finally managed to fumble my way through it.
All I could think was how desperately I wanted to get home and tell Tom that things were about to change.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
WAITING Part 1
I can’t stop shaking.
My periods are a week late. That’s not unusual.
So I took a pregnancy test. Also, not unusual.
One bold blue line. One blue line half as vibrant.
My first positive pregnancy test.
I took the test in the toilets at work this morning and haven’t had a chance to break free to see a doctor so the internal dialogue is keeping me company today.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“It’s probably a faulty test.”
“It’s early days yet – you might not keep it.”
The longer this drags on the more tense I feel. I’m not pregnant, there are simply butterflies in my stomach.
It’s been four and a half hours since I took the test and I’m torn between wanting confirmation and being disappointed by a failed blood test.
If I take the test and it fails I’ll be miserable.
If I take the test and it’s positive, I’ll be worried because it’s so early.
So now I have the inner dialogue, the butterflies, the excitement and the disappointment all weighing down on me.
It can’t be good for the baby.
If there’s a baby.
But there’s only one way to know for sure.
Off to the doctors I go yet again. The big chair and the big needle.
Then the big 24 hour wait.
I can’t stop shaking.
My periods are a week late. That’s not unusual.
So I took a pregnancy test. Also, not unusual.
One bold blue line. One blue line half as vibrant.
My first positive pregnancy test.
I took the test in the toilets at work this morning and haven’t had a chance to break free to see a doctor so the internal dialogue is keeping me company today.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“It’s probably a faulty test.”
“It’s early days yet – you might not keep it.”
The longer this drags on the more tense I feel. I’m not pregnant, there are simply butterflies in my stomach.
It’s been four and a half hours since I took the test and I’m torn between wanting confirmation and being disappointed by a failed blood test.
If I take the test and it fails I’ll be miserable.
If I take the test and it’s positive, I’ll be worried because it’s so early.
So now I have the inner dialogue, the butterflies, the excitement and the disappointment all weighing down on me.
It can’t be good for the baby.
If there’s a baby.
But there’s only one way to know for sure.
Off to the doctors I go yet again. The big chair and the big needle.
Then the big 24 hour wait.
Monday, May 15, 2006
ENTANGLED
I’m honestly sorry that I spoke.
“Well, he’s cheated on me five times and doesn’t want to commit to marriage but we’ve been together nine years and we have a beautiful little boy together and I can’t help but forgive him. You know what I mean?”
I don’t know if she noticed but my eyes glazed over. No, I didn’t know what she meant.
It isn’t love that makes you happy to be a doormat. It’s nothing but sheer stupidity.
She went on to tell me how he’d slept with her best friend of 18 years.
How he told her that, for the first time in nearly three years, she was “allowed” to go to her friend’s wedding and have a little fun without him. But, she made it very clear, his last words to her weren’t I love you or simply have a good time – they were “don’t hook up with anyone.”
“Sounds like he’s a little worried you might do something he’s always doing.”
She stopped mid-drink and looked at me.
“I didn’t think about it that way. Maybe I should give him a taste of his own medicine.”
No maybe about it. Or rather, not that she should cheat on this human piece of flotsam but rather simply walk away from him all together.
It’s not my place to say but I often wonder, if people are happy to tell you about the intimate details of their life, why are people so shocked by an honest response.
A few drinks later I finally plucked up the courage and asked her “Why are you with this guy? You don’t trust him, he doesn’t trust you. He won’t commit to you and you don’t care if he does. It sounds as though you guys love each other simply because it’s convenient.”
She looked shocked and then relaxed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right but I’ve known him since I was 15. He’s the only guy I’ve known. I do love him.”
“Better the devil you know, huh?”
“Yep.”
I can’t criticize her decision. It’s her life and it’s easy for me to be all lofty and superior now that I have Tom by my side.
She’s happy. I might not agree and I might just believe that she could do a damn sight better but that’s my opinion.
Still, sometimes I wish I didn’t talk so freely to strangers. The last thing on my mind is becoming tangled in their lives.
I’m honestly sorry that I spoke.
“Well, he’s cheated on me five times and doesn’t want to commit to marriage but we’ve been together nine years and we have a beautiful little boy together and I can’t help but forgive him. You know what I mean?”
I don’t know if she noticed but my eyes glazed over. No, I didn’t know what she meant.
It isn’t love that makes you happy to be a doormat. It’s nothing but sheer stupidity.
She went on to tell me how he’d slept with her best friend of 18 years.
How he told her that, for the first time in nearly three years, she was “allowed” to go to her friend’s wedding and have a little fun without him. But, she made it very clear, his last words to her weren’t I love you or simply have a good time – they were “don’t hook up with anyone.”
“Sounds like he’s a little worried you might do something he’s always doing.”
She stopped mid-drink and looked at me.
“I didn’t think about it that way. Maybe I should give him a taste of his own medicine.”
No maybe about it. Or rather, not that she should cheat on this human piece of flotsam but rather simply walk away from him all together.
It’s not my place to say but I often wonder, if people are happy to tell you about the intimate details of their life, why are people so shocked by an honest response.
A few drinks later I finally plucked up the courage and asked her “Why are you with this guy? You don’t trust him, he doesn’t trust you. He won’t commit to you and you don’t care if he does. It sounds as though you guys love each other simply because it’s convenient.”
She looked shocked and then relaxed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right but I’ve known him since I was 15. He’s the only guy I’ve known. I do love him.”
“Better the devil you know, huh?”
“Yep.”
I can’t criticize her decision. It’s her life and it’s easy for me to be all lofty and superior now that I have Tom by my side.
She’s happy. I might not agree and I might just believe that she could do a damn sight better but that’s my opinion.
Still, sometimes I wish I didn’t talk so freely to strangers. The last thing on my mind is becoming tangled in their lives.
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