Well that was terrifying.
I continued with the brown spotting (only on the toilet paper, not heavy) throughout the day yesterday. My appointment was at 3:45, so my day at work was totally unproductive and incredibly long.
I didn't tell Bobby about the spotting until I called him while I was waiting in the parking lot at the clinic. He was going to join me for the appointment and I wanted to see how soon he would be there. He asked me if I was excited, and I told him I was nervous.
He's already been telling me that I'm thinking too negatively, I just need to relax. Of course, that's easy for him to say, he doesn't have to analyze every single twinge, cramp, muscle stretch, ache, pain, discharge, and feeling that's happening to his body. So yeah...it's pretty easy for him to just relax and trust me to take care of this pregnancy.
Of course, the moment the nurse called my name, he grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes: No matter what, he whispered into my ear and kissed the side of my head. That's been our theme this pregnancy. No matter what, we're still a team and we're going to be fine. No matter if the pregnancy test was a false positive. No matter if the 7 week ultrasound showed an empty sac. No matter if this appointment revealed the spotting to be bad, and the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat. No matter what.
And we almost had our moment. I told Dr. G. about the spotting, and he told me that if I were 8 weeks, they'd do an ultrasound. But since I'm 12 weeks, if he picked up a heartbeat with the doppler, then I wouldn't need an ultrasound and shouldn't worry about it. It was probably just the placenta "digging roots."
I lay on the table, and he spread the gel on my stomach and began moving the doppler. I could hear all sorts of wooshing and whirring, but nothing that sounded like a heartbeat. I stared at Dr. G.'s face, afraid to look at Bobby because I knew Bobby was studying me. He moved the doppler higher and I finally heard a heartbeat, but it was much too slow. I knew it was mine. Dr. G. started over--moving the wand back to the far left of my stomach and scanning to the right again. Finally, right beneath my belly button, I heard a racing heartbeat--at least 2 beats per second that I knew belonged to a tiny baby. Dr. G. breathed a sigh of relief and faced the doppler screen toward me. "175. That's your baby." We listened to it for a minute or so, and I could finally breathe again. "I could only find the heartbeat when you exhaled." Oops. I may have been holding my breath the entire time before he found it.
He pushed around on my belly and said my uterus wasn't protruding yet. He didn't comment either way about whether that was good or bad. He said the spotting probably wasn't much to worry about, I could take it easy if I was worried, but he never really puts restrictions on his patients for rest. He said no sex for a few days to keep from aggravating the cervix, but to be honest, between the nausea, puking, and pooping, sex has already dropped pretty significantly around here. He also gave me the Rhogam shot since I'm O- and I guess they do it early if there's any spotting or bleeding. Just an FYI - Rhogam is a giant needle and it goes in your butt. So that was a fun surprise. Dr. G.'s nurse was supposed to give it to me, but she came back with another nurse, saying she'd never given this shot before, so she was just going to observe and let this other, more experienced nurse do it. The new nurse promised she'd done it thousands of times. It actually didn't hurt that much, but I was leaning against the exam table, looking at Bobby sitting in the patient chair while he watched two nurses shoot up my butt. He enjoyed it waaaay too much.
I'm only up 1.5 pounds but Dr. G. still lectured me about not gaining too much weight--especially in the first trimester. I didn't think that was fair, since that morning when I weighed myself at home I was actually down 2 pounds, so the "gain" was just normal fluctuation. He promised that the baby will "eat first," so even if I skip a meal or two, I'm not going to starve the baby. Apparently I look like I need to skip a meal or two. Thanks, Dr. G. I do really appreciate him. He always reminds me that I can call or text his cell phone at anytime with questions.
For those who have asked, I'm not doing any prenatal scans, like the NT scan or quad scan. Any abnormalities will be discovered at my 20 week ultrasound. There's nothing that I would do with the information any earlier other than worry (and I'm doing PLENTY of that already), and at 20 weeks I would still have time to surround myself with the right doctors and hospital and NICU if anything bad is discovered.
Dr. G. mentioned he was feeling a little "off" during my appointment since he had a 20 week ultrasound for one of his patients that morning that received some not very good news. He got very quiet and blinked a few times. "I've been doing this for 30 years, but that's hard news to deliver that never gets any easier." I like that about him. He's willing to admit he's human and this still affects him.
Bobby was thrilled to hear the heartbeat. He's already telling most of his friends and people at work. I'm excited, but I'm having a hard time sharing the news. I don't know if it's because I know how much it can suck to hear other people's pregnancy announcements, or if I'm just still nervous this is all going to disappear.
Bobby and I had a long discussion last weekend about putting an announcement on Facebook (I'm against it - he wants to, though he said only ONE small update saying we're expecting, not weekly (or hourly) updates about every miniscule detail that no one cares about). It was an interesting conversation and it really revealed how infertility affected us differently. He insisted that "people like us" (infertiles) just get used to pregnancy announcements. Yeah, it sucks to not be pregnant, but other people's announcements don't make it worse. It just continues to suck equally. I disagreed, but I know many of you have suggested similar to Bobby. You're able to separate other people's pregnancies from your own infertility. I guess I'm not like that. I told him he could put something up if he wanted to, but I wasn't going to. I'm hardly on Facebook anyway, and I know he's just excited to share with everyone, so I'm probably going to lose this one.
I guess I can live with that, since I've won in not finding out the gender of the baby until birth. It's about time we do something the old fashioned way.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Code Brown and Panic
I have my 12-week appointment this afternoon, which I am both excited and nervous about. We decided that if everything went well--we heard a good, strong heartbeat, doctor says everything looks great--then we'd start telling people about the baby. Of course, I've had the natural amount of nervousness just hoping everything is progressing fine, since at this point I don't feel or look any different. I'm still nauseated all the time and my stomach is starting to pooch a little...but the pooch could easily be blamed on my overall laziness and less-than-great eating habits.
And then this morning, there was brown discharge when I wiped.
So far, I haven't had any sort of spotting except after my cervical exam. This came out of no where. It was definitely brown, not red, and you better believe I googled the crap out of it. It seems fairly common and like it shouldn't be a concern as long as it stays brown and there's no cramping. I felt some strong "pulling" (I guess) in my lower abdomen yesterday, which I'm led to believe is my uterus stretching, and I read that it can cause some bleeding when the ligaments stretch. It's definitely not as painful as menstrual cramps, but I wouldn't say it's exactly "painless" either. The next 5.75 hours could not possibly go any slower.
I'm not scheduled for an ultrasound today, as Dr. G. was only planning on listening to the heartbeat with a doppler. I suppose if the heartbeat is fine, he won't be worried, but I'm kind of hoping he'll give me an ultrasound anyway and maybe tell me where the bleeding is coming from--or if it's just cervical bleeding and no big deal. Or if the cyst he saw on my ovary in my 7 week ultrasound burst...or something else. Any kind of answer would be nice.
I haven't gone to the bathroom since this morning's incident. The irrational part of me wants to believe if I just don't see any more bleeding then I can pretend it's not happening. I wondered if I should call my doctor right away this morning, but I doubt I could get in any earlier than my already-scheduled appointment, so my only option would be the emergency room. And a little bit of brown spotting doesn't seem like an emergency room situation--especially since I'm seeing my doctor in a few hours anyway (5.5!).
How does anyone make it through this part of the pregnancy--where you can't see or feel your baby and have no idea what's going on inside of you!?! I'd just like a real growing bump that's more than last night's spaghetti. But that's still weeks away. Or some friendly kicks to let me know baby is still there. But that's still months away.
Am I ever going to be done WAITING for the next stage of my life!?
And then this morning, there was brown discharge when I wiped.
So far, I haven't had any sort of spotting except after my cervical exam. This came out of no where. It was definitely brown, not red, and you better believe I googled the crap out of it. It seems fairly common and like it shouldn't be a concern as long as it stays brown and there's no cramping. I felt some strong "pulling" (I guess) in my lower abdomen yesterday, which I'm led to believe is my uterus stretching, and I read that it can cause some bleeding when the ligaments stretch. It's definitely not as painful as menstrual cramps, but I wouldn't say it's exactly "painless" either. The next 5.75 hours could not possibly go any slower.
I'm not scheduled for an ultrasound today, as Dr. G. was only planning on listening to the heartbeat with a doppler. I suppose if the heartbeat is fine, he won't be worried, but I'm kind of hoping he'll give me an ultrasound anyway and maybe tell me where the bleeding is coming from--or if it's just cervical bleeding and no big deal. Or if the cyst he saw on my ovary in my 7 week ultrasound burst...or something else. Any kind of answer would be nice.
I haven't gone to the bathroom since this morning's incident. The irrational part of me wants to believe if I just don't see any more bleeding then I can pretend it's not happening. I wondered if I should call my doctor right away this morning, but I doubt I could get in any earlier than my already-scheduled appointment, so my only option would be the emergency room. And a little bit of brown spotting doesn't seem like an emergency room situation--especially since I'm seeing my doctor in a few hours anyway (5.5!).
How does anyone make it through this part of the pregnancy--where you can't see or feel your baby and have no idea what's going on inside of you!?! I'd just like a real growing bump that's more than last night's spaghetti. But that's still weeks away. Or some friendly kicks to let me know baby is still there. But that's still months away.
Am I ever going to be done WAITING for the next stage of my life!?
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Telling My Parents I Got Knocked Up
On Sunday we took my parents out to eat and told them about the baby. We found photo frames that said "Grandma&Me" and "Grandpa&Me." I took the stock photo of happy grandparent and kid and flipped it over to the blank white side and wrote "Baby Davey - coming April 2015" and put it back together and wrapped them up.
Nearing the end of lunch, I told them I had early birthday presents for them - since their birthdays are a week apart in late October/early November. They looked confused at first, and then kind of guessed, "Oh, because you'll be busy with volleyball tournaments then?" I sort of nodded.
They both unwrapped the frames and my mom's jaw dropped to the table. There were gasps and congratulations, and my dad's first words were "I'm too young to be a grandpa!" Which he is not. He's in his late-60s and has been retired nearly a year. So of course Bobby chimed in, "I better not tell my parents then!" as his parents are a solid 15 years younger than mine.
No one yelled at me for being irresponsible or throwing away my future. Except when I mentioned that I was going to quit my job when the baby came. That did not go over well. I don't really have plans to be a stay at home mom, but I've become increasingly unhappy at my current job. I've been looking for something new already, and this is actually giving me a perfect excuse. I'll be able to take as much maternity leave as I want, and then look for something new probably in the fall. I want to get back into tutoring or working in the schools, so I think it will work out perfectly. My current job pays well, but it's becoming more and more stressful and the management is getting worse. I'm ready for something new.
Bobby called his dad and stepmom Sunday night and told them. I'm not sure exactly how it went, since I was out playing volleyball, but they were still talking over an hour later when I got home. They've wanted to be grandparents for a long time, so of course, they were overjoyed.
Bobby is going to mail his mom a canvas print we picked up over the weekend. He wanted to tell her that way since that's how she told her mom when she was pregnant--by cross stitching something "grandparent-y" on a pillow and mailing it.
This is going to be the first grandkid on all fronts, so yeah...it was pretty exciting for everyone. I texted my sister, and Bobby texted his brother. They both immediately asked if we knew what it was yet...clearly neither one knows much about babies, but they were both excited.
I saw Emma at a volleyball tournament this weekend, so I told her. She was of course super excited and it was really fun to talk to her about it. I always thought we'd be pregnant at the same time, but little Rorschach is 7 months old, and he's a pretty fun age too--although he has zero hair and kind of still looks like an old man. I'm glad I'm only a year behind her, instead of much more like I thought I would be.
I'm 11 weeks 1 day today, so we'll probably start tell everyone else in another week or so. We have an appointment next Wednesday to listen to the heartbeat for the first time...I'm hoping for a good strong number! The only thing that keeps me sane is that I'm still nauseated 90% of the time. According to my doctor, that's a good sign.
Coaching volleyball is still kicking my butt, but I'm so close to being done. Only a four more weeks - 6 games and state tournament! I can make it. I'm also hoping for a break in the nausea in the next couple weeks. I can't even remember what it feels like to not be at least a little bit sick.
Nearing the end of lunch, I told them I had early birthday presents for them - since their birthdays are a week apart in late October/early November. They looked confused at first, and then kind of guessed, "Oh, because you'll be busy with volleyball tournaments then?" I sort of nodded.
They both unwrapped the frames and my mom's jaw dropped to the table. There were gasps and congratulations, and my dad's first words were "I'm too young to be a grandpa!" Which he is not. He's in his late-60s and has been retired nearly a year. So of course Bobby chimed in, "I better not tell my parents then!" as his parents are a solid 15 years younger than mine.
No one yelled at me for being irresponsible or throwing away my future. Except when I mentioned that I was going to quit my job when the baby came. That did not go over well. I don't really have plans to be a stay at home mom, but I've become increasingly unhappy at my current job. I've been looking for something new already, and this is actually giving me a perfect excuse. I'll be able to take as much maternity leave as I want, and then look for something new probably in the fall. I want to get back into tutoring or working in the schools, so I think it will work out perfectly. My current job pays well, but it's becoming more and more stressful and the management is getting worse. I'm ready for something new.
Bobby called his dad and stepmom Sunday night and told them. I'm not sure exactly how it went, since I was out playing volleyball, but they were still talking over an hour later when I got home. They've wanted to be grandparents for a long time, so of course, they were overjoyed.
Bobby is going to mail his mom a canvas print we picked up over the weekend. He wanted to tell her that way since that's how she told her mom when she was pregnant--by cross stitching something "grandparent-y" on a pillow and mailing it.
This is going to be the first grandkid on all fronts, so yeah...it was pretty exciting for everyone. I texted my sister, and Bobby texted his brother. They both immediately asked if we knew what it was yet...clearly neither one knows much about babies, but they were both excited.
I saw Emma at a volleyball tournament this weekend, so I told her. She was of course super excited and it was really fun to talk to her about it. I always thought we'd be pregnant at the same time, but little Rorschach is 7 months old, and he's a pretty fun age too--although he has zero hair and kind of still looks like an old man. I'm glad I'm only a year behind her, instead of much more like I thought I would be.
I'm 11 weeks 1 day today, so we'll probably start tell everyone else in another week or so. We have an appointment next Wednesday to listen to the heartbeat for the first time...I'm hoping for a good strong number! The only thing that keeps me sane is that I'm still nauseated 90% of the time. According to my doctor, that's a good sign.
Coaching volleyball is still kicking my butt, but I'm so close to being done. Only a four more weeks - 6 games and state tournament! I can make it. I'm also hoping for a break in the nausea in the next couple weeks. I can't even remember what it feels like to not be at least a little bit sick.
Friday, September 19, 2014
In Case I Forget
Since I do want to track this pregnancy, and since I'm not doing it anywhere else, I should probably write something. I'm also exhausted out of my mind, so here's a bulleted list of what's going on.
What has been different than you expected? In pregnancy, in having a baby, in trying to conceive, in fertility treatments? How do you manage your expectations when reality finds you on a tan tile floor of your work bathroom puking into the toilet you share with 18 other women?
- My vomit-free pregnancy officially ended today in grand fashion as I puked up saltines at work. Other than that, I've just been feeling nauseated all the time. Nothing really helps. Saltines, water, ginger ale, ginger tea, ginger cookies, Conan O'Brien. I've tried it all.
- The fatigue is worse than I ever imagined. I'm barely keeping my eyes open at work. I'm napping almost every day. I go to sleep at 8:30 p.m. I'm actually sleeping really well. I hardly ever wake up during the night, and if I do, I'm able to fall right back asleep. So that's not the problem. And I know the fatigue is only going to get worse, so any advice would be great.
- My boss knows I'm pregnant. I was going to tell her at 12 weeks during my one-on-one meeting with her, but she approached me today and asked, "Should I be concerned that you're eating saltines all day and sipping ginger ale?" She promised not to say anything. In a lot of ways, I'm relieved. I've had to make dumb excuses to work from home when I'm really nauseated or tired, or try to sneak in a little late on days I can't get through the gagginess of brushing my teeth. She sent me an email right after we talked saying, "Don't ever worry about coming in late! Take your time. You'll get your work done. I never worry about that." Thankfully no one witnessed the puking, as the secret would probably be completely out then.
- We haven't told anyone else yet (except my dental hygienist on Tuesday...that was a weird experience all on its own). I'm 9 weeks, 4 days today, and we were sort of holding off on telling people until 12 weeks. But it would be so much easier if everyone knew. I've had to cancel a lot of commitments or drag my exhausted self through them, and I just know people would be a little more understanding about why I can't volunteer for EVERYTHING anymore.
- I'm particularly nervous about telling my parents. I have no idea why. I just imagine them giving me a speech about responsibility and throwing away my future--which is crazy! I'm not 16! I'm a totally appropriate age to have a baby...I'm not even that young. They aren't grandparents yet, so really, they'll be thrilled. But having this conversation totally makes me feel like a teenager who did something bad. Since both of their birthdays are soon, I was thinking about getting them "grandparent" things and having them open them. I dunno. Help? Did you tell your parents early? How? Did they yell at you for getting knocked up (just kidding...kind of)?
- I've tried to at least keep up with walking 30 minutes a day. I originally had some grand plans to keep up with my regular workout, just modifying it a bit and slowing down. Ha! That was a joke. I can't even type the work "jog" without feeling like my lunch is about to reappear.
- This one is rough. I've written two whole posts about it and decided not to publish either one. It makes me really sad and disappointed in myself. Here's the truth: I wish my volleyball season was over. I'm struggling this year and I know I'm not on top of my coaching game. I'm distant at practice, mostly sitting out of drills because I'm too nauseated or tired to participate. I feel an incredible disconnect from the girls on my team this year, and I'm sure some of it is my lack of effort to really get to know them. I don't have an assistant this year, so I'm on my own. I really feel like I never should have agreed to take this on, since I'm totally failing at it. I have a little over a month left, and I just want it to go fast and be over. That's not fair my girls, and I hate that I'm feeling this way.
What has been different than you expected? In pregnancy, in having a baby, in trying to conceive, in fertility treatments? How do you manage your expectations when reality finds you on a tan tile floor of your work bathroom puking into the toilet you share with 18 other women?
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Surreal
So I'm pretty sure that yesterday I
was living someone else's life.
My doctor had told me I could bring
Bobby to the ultrasound if I wanted to, but since I was so early there wasn't a
whole lot to see (other than his wife getting probed by a dildo...). I decided
I wanted him there. He's always up for getting out of work, and gets a
ridiculous amount of paid time off specifically designated for doctor visits
and such. It wasn't so much that I wanted him to “see” the baby, since it’s
barely a fuzzy blob at this point, I wanted him there in case I didn’t see
anything.
So many times during the last few
weeks, I imagined this appointment. The tech getting everything ready,
condoming and lubing the wand, inserting it...and silence. She’d look at me
with raised eyebrows. Ask me what the heck I was doing there, there was
absolutely nothing inside of me. Not even a blip on the screen, and certainly
not a baby. Couldn’t I read a pregnancy test right?!
Or more likely, she’d find that
fuzzy blob, but it would be too small. No heartbeat. It was there, but it wasn’t
alive. I wanted Bobby there in case I had to hear that news. I had specifically
scheduled the appointment for a day with no volleyball games or practice
because I wasn’t sure I could be a decent coach after hearing that news.
As I walked into the clinic, I
realized I didn’t actually know where I was supposed to go. I wasn’t seeing my
doctor, so I didn’t know if I would still go the Family Practice/OBGYN section.
I was born with a hole in my heart, so I had ultrasounds growing up to
make sure it was closing properly...but that was always done downstairs in
Radiology. Is that where they ultrasounded (not a verb? who knows) babies too?
Or just hearts?
We walked upstairs to the OBGYN
section. I told the receptionist I had an appointment for an ultrasound, but I
wasn’t sure I was in the right place.
She got this sweet, motherly look
on her face, “Are you pregnant?”
In the past, I had only ever
answered that question with a guffaw. I was certainly NOT pregnant! I paused,
and smiled, a little embarrassed, and nodded.
“Then you’re in the right place.”
She smiled kindly and took the rest of my information. It was crazy! People
actually believed that I was pregnant. I wasn’t just making this up!
The tech brought Bobby and me back
to a tiny room, gave me a sheet for my legs, told me to empty my bladder and strip
from the waist down, and left. I obeyed, though everything felt strange. Like
Bobby was joining me for my annual pap smear or something (which he likes to
call “pap schmear,” as in the stuff you put on bagels. The guy’s a little
weird). It didn’t feel like we were really doing this...I mean, we don’t do
things like this! This is not our life!
Bobby kept reminding me, “No matter
what, we’re going to be fine. We’re still a team.” Obviously meaning, even if
there’s no heartbeat, I won’t hate you for not being pregnant. Since the room
was so small, he was behind me on a chair, and I was on the table, which took
up 70% of the room. I couldn’t see him at all and he could only see the top of
my head and my knees up in stirrups—not my face. The screen was mounted on the
wall near the ceiling. I focused completely on that.
The tech was great. She was young
and nice and adept with the dildo cam. Immediately after she put it in, she
focused the screen. “This is the yolk sac right here,” she said, indicating with
an arrow on the screen. “And this is the egg sac.” These were basically
meaningless to me, they just looked like blobs, but I was relieved to see there
was at least something in there, and I
hadn’t just wasted her time. “And this tiny little dot right here is your baby.”
I’m pretty sure I exhaled a breath
I’d been holding the last two years. There was a baby. A baby!? Inside of me. It
seemed like a mistake. I wasn’t sure how, but maybe I was actually looking at
the transmission of some neighboring transvaginal ultrasound. “And this little
flicker right here? That’s baby’s heartbeat.” It had a heartbeat. It was alive.
I tried to act like a sane person and not like I was shocked it had a
heartbeat. The tech had obviously expected everything to be fine, and I was a
maniac who was waiting for someone to tell me this had all been a joke.
The heartbeat was 115 bpm (Bobby
keeps saying 115 miles per hour...), and I asked if that was good. She said, “Yes,
that’s very good.” Anyone know? I’m trying not to excessively Google it.
She took tons of measurements and
photos and poked around at my ovaries. She seemed satisfied with it, and told
me my doctor will call me eventually and go over it with me. When she was done,
she handed me a strip of photos with the word “BABY” and an arrow pointing to a
fuzzy blob that looks like a tiny dinosaur.
Dr. G. told me at my last
appointment that a heartbeat is a huge milestone. That a “significant number”
of miscarriages were pregnancies that never got off the ground—something abnormal
with either the sperm or egg and never created a decent embryo and never got to
the point of having a heartbeat. Once it had a heartbeat, the chances of miscarriage
dropped “exponentially.” Now, these aren’t really numbers, and I didn’t ask for
real statistics, but I guess it helped a little, and made some sense (except I
hadn’t seen a heartbeat yet, so I was terrified of not seeing one). And I’m
sure these statistics do absolutely nothing to comfort those who have had a miscarriage
after seeing a heartbeat, because while “exponentially” fewer, they still
exist. And I can only imagine how much that sucks.
So...we passed the heartbeat
milestone. What now? I haven’t gained any weight, but the bloating is unreal. I’m
sure I haven’t gained because I’m not eating enough. All I can handle are
simple carbs, which I know are terrible. Fruit and vegetables are out of the
question. Meat is so gross right now. I’m mostly subsisting on waffles, pop tarts
and Ramen noodles. Hello, college diet! I still haven’t actually thrown up yet,
but I’m still nauseated all the time. The pooping is now mostly under control
(thank goodness). Also I’m drinking a gallon of water a day. I’m so thirsty and
so tired. I’m sleeping through the night really well, which means I pee for
like 3 straight minutes every morning. At least I haven’t wet the bed!
I’m ready to be done being sick and
I’m ready to tell people so they can give me a break for being sick. Bobby’s
been awesome, and totally enabling my laziness. He’s doing most of the cooking,
cleaning, grocery shopping, and letting me lie on the couch and be a bloated
whale. It totally makes up for “schmear” and 115 mph heartbeat.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Some Good News
I missed a phone call last night, and when I listened to the message, it was my new OB Dr. G. The message said he saw me on his calendar for next month, and he wanted to chat. He had called around 5:30 p.m., but I didn't see the message until closer to 6, and figured he would have left the office already and I'd call him in the morning.
He called back around 6:30 p.m.. He explained that this was his cell phone number, and he wanted me to have it. If I called his office, the receptionists and nurses probably wouldn't let me talk to him, but I could always call or text his cell phone and he promised he would get back to me. Um...this is NOT how my experience with any medical professionals from my clinic has ever gone! He was trying to make things EASY for me! I think this man is angel.
He went over basic questions, like why I ended up choosing him. I explained and once I gave him my maiden name, he put it together who I really am and became even more excited about having me as a patient.
Also, he wants me to come into his office as soon as possible to chat about things. We'd keep the exam appointment for Sept. 17, but that was too long of a wait for me to not do anything. He wants to go over what I should and should not be doing, as well as plans for the birth and just generally getting to know each other and figuring out the dynamics of our doctor-patient relationship. Whaa??? He respects my ideas and opinions? Is this normal?
He also wanted to schedule an ultrasound. It's elective, and totally up to me, but he encourages his patients to do it so they can closely pinpoint a due date, and see how things are progressing. He wants to do it next week, since I'll be around 7 weeks, and he said that would be plenty far along to determine a due date from the scan. And then he ever so delicately explained to me what a transvaginal ultrasound is. But he assured me it would be only me and a female, highly-trained technician alone in the dark room with the screen. She's the absolute best around and makes all of her patients feel comfortable, even though the idea of an internal ultrasound is a little uncomfortable and unpleasant. (I'm sure he was remembering me as an awkward, virgin teenager who definitely would have had some objections to being probed.) I'll admit, if I hadn't been reading infertility blogs, the idea of sticking a condom on a penis-shaped camera and shoving it inside of me would have me raising my eyebrows. But since many of you have had these exams multiple times per cycle, I can probably handle it. And dammit, I wanna see if there's actually a baby (or you know, shadowy peanut) growing inside of me. Bring on the dildo cam!
So I'm seeing Dr. G. tomorrow, and then he'll schedule the ultrasound next week. It's like I'm really pregnant! And I'm also terrified of having this ultrasound done and there being nothing there. Or something, but it's not alive. I can't decide if it's better or worse that I'm actually going to get things confirmed. If I waited until Sept. 17, I could at least continue pretending I'm pregnant for another few weeks. Instead, I could find out next week that it's all over.
I'm trying not to be pessimistic about this, I promise. I'm trying to accept consistent nausea as a good sign. I'm trying to appreciate the fact I can't even open my fridge because the smell of some homemade cucumber salsa (yep, just gagged thinking about it) Bobby brought home from someone at work makes my stomach turn inside out. That I'm going to bed at 8:30 every night and can still barely keep my eyes open at work. I'm not bleeding, I don't even need a bra my boobs are so darn perky, and if I stop sipping Ginger Ale at 6 minute intervals, I'm going to throw up all over my desk.
Holy balls, you guys, I think I'm pregnant.
He called back around 6:30 p.m.. He explained that this was his cell phone number, and he wanted me to have it. If I called his office, the receptionists and nurses probably wouldn't let me talk to him, but I could always call or text his cell phone and he promised he would get back to me. Um...this is NOT how my experience with any medical professionals from my clinic has ever gone! He was trying to make things EASY for me! I think this man is angel.
He went over basic questions, like why I ended up choosing him. I explained and once I gave him my maiden name, he put it together who I really am and became even more excited about having me as a patient.
Also, he wants me to come into his office as soon as possible to chat about things. We'd keep the exam appointment for Sept. 17, but that was too long of a wait for me to not do anything. He wants to go over what I should and should not be doing, as well as plans for the birth and just generally getting to know each other and figuring out the dynamics of our doctor-patient relationship. Whaa??? He respects my ideas and opinions? Is this normal?
He also wanted to schedule an ultrasound. It's elective, and totally up to me, but he encourages his patients to do it so they can closely pinpoint a due date, and see how things are progressing. He wants to do it next week, since I'll be around 7 weeks, and he said that would be plenty far along to determine a due date from the scan. And then he ever so delicately explained to me what a transvaginal ultrasound is. But he assured me it would be only me and a female, highly-trained technician alone in the dark room with the screen. She's the absolute best around and makes all of her patients feel comfortable, even though the idea of an internal ultrasound is a little uncomfortable and unpleasant. (I'm sure he was remembering me as an awkward, virgin teenager who definitely would have had some objections to being probed.) I'll admit, if I hadn't been reading infertility blogs, the idea of sticking a condom on a penis-shaped camera and shoving it inside of me would have me raising my eyebrows. But since many of you have had these exams multiple times per cycle, I can probably handle it. And dammit, I wanna see if there's actually a baby (or you know, shadowy peanut) growing inside of me. Bring on the dildo cam!
So I'm seeing Dr. G. tomorrow, and then he'll schedule the ultrasound next week. It's like I'm really pregnant! And I'm also terrified of having this ultrasound done and there being nothing there. Or something, but it's not alive. I can't decide if it's better or worse that I'm actually going to get things confirmed. If I waited until Sept. 17, I could at least continue pretending I'm pregnant for another few weeks. Instead, I could find out next week that it's all over.
I'm trying not to be pessimistic about this, I promise. I'm trying to accept consistent nausea as a good sign. I'm trying to appreciate the fact I can't even open my fridge because the smell of some homemade cucumber salsa (yep, just gagged thinking about it) Bobby brought home from someone at work makes my stomach turn inside out. That I'm going to bed at 8:30 every night and can still barely keep my eyes open at work. I'm not bleeding, I don't even need a bra my boobs are so darn perky, and if I stop sipping Ginger Ale at 6 minute intervals, I'm going to throw up all over my desk.
Holy balls, you guys, I think I'm pregnant.
Monday, August 25, 2014
The Non-Update
For all of you eagerly awaiting to find out what's happening with my "pregnancy," here is your update: nothing. Nothing is happening.
Well, that's not exactly true, but let's back up.
I've lamented the sad state of my local clinic before here many times, but here's a refresher: it sucks. The problem is, there is only one local choice of clinic/hospital. I live 50 miles from any major city...and not 50 miles of interstate highway, suburbs, and lovely driving. 50 miles of cornfields, farms, small towns, and more cornfields. This clinic is basically my only option.
So...I called and told the first lady who answered that I had just gotten a positive pregnancy test. As it was my first, I wasn't sure who to call or what to do exactly...could she help me? I know I sounded ignorant on the phone, I didn't really care. I was ignorant. I asked if I needed a blood test. She said it would depend on my doctor. Some wanted confirmation, some accepted a positive home test as enough. She then asked who my primary was. I told her Dr. V. She took a few moments and told me, "Oh, Dr. V. doesn't do OB care anymore." I knew this when I called, but part of me thought Dr. V. might want to see me anyway--since she knew I'd been trying for two years. I thought she might do the initial visit and maybe recommend an OB. She was out that day anyway, so the lady on the phone told me she'd leave a message with her office and they'd call tomorrow. Okay, that was fine. I could wait one more day.
Dr. V's nurse called the next day (thankfully, she's always been super nice even when I've been super dumb), and she was actually helpful. Though she did confirm that since Dr. V doesn't do OB, she didn't need to see me. She told me I would need to meet with a lady who I think is some sort of CNP, who does new pregnancy consults, and then I would choose an OB and meet with them the same day. She gave me the names of a couple OBs she knew personally and liked, and transferred me to someone else.
I literally had to choose an OB in the time that I was on hold. More on who/how I chose later. Although obviously, if possible, my absolute first choice would be Jane.
I again repeated everything to this new receptionist. I had a positive pregnancy test. I needed to meet with special CNP lady. I needed to choose an OB. This receptionist was pretty helpful in scheduling, as she worked out a date with the CNP and my newly chosen OB that were within an hour of each other, so I could get everything done in half a day, instead of missing more work. I thanked her, and we hung up.
I go in Sept. 17.
And then I replayed it all in my head. No one told me what I'm supposed to do in the meantime. No one actually confirmed that I was pregnant. What if I made up the positive test? What if I was an idiot and couldn't even read a pregnancy test (I'm feeling a little better about this since I have the approval of a dozen internet strangers who are much more knowledgeable than myself)? No one told me to start taking prenatal vitamins (I also feel pretty well-covered in this area, as I've been taking them for the last 2.5 years, but they didn't know that)...shouldn't someone have maybe mentioned that to me? Or do people just assume everyone googles? No one told me to not drink alcohol or cut back on caffeine or quit smoking. Some of this stuff is pretty important to tell a pregnant lady early on! Yes, I'm fairly responsible and can figure most of this out, but they don't know that! I'm pretty sure that the CNP lady is going to go over all of this at my appointment with her, but by the time my appointment comes around, I'll be something like 9-10 weeks (maybe? I don't even know how to count this. No one told me!). They didn't even ask the first day of my last period, so the OB isn't going to know how far along I am when I show up that day. They really didn't ask me anything.
So, I don't know anything more. I won't know anything more, including the results of a blood test or a professional pee test, until Sept. 17. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE HOW FAR AWAY THAT IS!? It's like two, back-to-back two-week waits!
Let's move on, I'm beginning to raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels.
Let's start with choosing an OB. As I mentioned, I did this in about 12 seconds while on hold. Basically, Dr. V's nurse read off a bunch of names of both actual OBGYNs and family medicine doctors who also do OB and are taking new patients.
I was pleased when she read a particular name--let's call him Dr. G--as in the past I kinda wanted him as an OB (if it ever came to that). He's my dad's doctor. He's delivered babies in my town for many years, including half of the girls on my current volleyball team. He used to go to my church. My sister dated his son, who also dated my best friend Emma (yeah, he was a player...but hot). Also, Dr. G was Emma's doctor growing up (which was SUPER WEIRD for her while she was dating his son). I used to go to a Bible study at his house when I was in high school. He was always super nice to me and gave me great advice. Dr. G. was the first person outside of my family to push me to go to school for writing. He was a great mentor in some times when I was seriously struggling.
For most of my life I assumed I'd want a female OB. I've always had a female GP that has done my breast exams and pap smears, and I always wanted it that way. I was really shy and super self-conscious as a kid, and I would have cried to have a strange man touching me when I was a pre-teen. It was a given that I would have a female doctor. But all of my friends have had male OBs, and they've never mentioned any issues. At first, I thought having Dr. G would be really weird. I know him in real life...I'm not sure I want someone I know in real life looking at my vag all the time. Like, shouldn't I keep my real life and my doctor life separate? But, then I thought of one of the moms of two of my volleyball girls (twins) who had Dr. G. She always talked about how attentive he was, how he gave her his home number and encouraged her to call with anything, how he took extra special care of them because he also knew them in real life. Maybe that's totally unprofessional or abusing the system, but let's face it: I'm not smart. I need all the extra help I can get. So I chose Dr. G.
A few more things that are new...I guess I'm still pregnant because I haven't gotten my period yet. And my boobs? I used be a smallish C. Now I'm a solid D. And I'm pretty sure they're made of granite. I pee about 17 times a day, and I'm starving all. the. time. But everything makes me feel sick. Except for waffles. I know I need to eat protein, but the only thing I've managed to not feel super sick after eating in the last week has been Cheerios and waffles. Can I just eat breakfast all the time?
I'm also nauseated. Not like throw-up nauseated, more like seasick. I haven't thrown up yet (yet!), I just feel queasy constantly. And "morning sickness" hasn't really taken the traditional route. It's not only in the morning, it's all the time. And it's not vomit, it's poop. All. The. Time. Didn't want to know that? Sorry, me neither.
So...this is not how I thought pregnancy would look. Mostly, it feels like I have the flu. Or food poisoning. Thankfully, my job is somewhat flexible and I was able to work from home for a few hours this morning (let's not tell my clients I was actually working while sitting in an empty bathtub holding my laptop, just in case there was an emergency). But I definitely can't work from home every morning without a valid reason. And I'm still several weeks before feeling comfortable enough to tell my boss. There's also my volleyball team. They must think I've just gotten lazy this season, since I haven't been diving or going as hard when I play with them. I'll need to tell them eventually, but only once I'm ready for the whole world to know, since we all know how well high school girls can keep secrets. There's also my family and friends.
It's all very overwhelming, and none of it would feel real at all, except for you, blog friends. You are the only people that know. So thanks for validating my constant pooping as something other than IBS.
Well, that's not exactly true, but let's back up.
I've lamented the sad state of my local clinic before here many times, but here's a refresher: it sucks. The problem is, there is only one local choice of clinic/hospital. I live 50 miles from any major city...and not 50 miles of interstate highway, suburbs, and lovely driving. 50 miles of cornfields, farms, small towns, and more cornfields. This clinic is basically my only option.
So...I called and told the first lady who answered that I had just gotten a positive pregnancy test. As it was my first, I wasn't sure who to call or what to do exactly...could she help me? I know I sounded ignorant on the phone, I didn't really care. I was ignorant. I asked if I needed a blood test. She said it would depend on my doctor. Some wanted confirmation, some accepted a positive home test as enough. She then asked who my primary was. I told her Dr. V. She took a few moments and told me, "Oh, Dr. V. doesn't do OB care anymore." I knew this when I called, but part of me thought Dr. V. might want to see me anyway--since she knew I'd been trying for two years. I thought she might do the initial visit and maybe recommend an OB. She was out that day anyway, so the lady on the phone told me she'd leave a message with her office and they'd call tomorrow. Okay, that was fine. I could wait one more day.
Dr. V's nurse called the next day (thankfully, she's always been super nice even when I've been super dumb), and she was actually helpful. Though she did confirm that since Dr. V doesn't do OB, she didn't need to see me. She told me I would need to meet with a lady who I think is some sort of CNP, who does new pregnancy consults, and then I would choose an OB and meet with them the same day. She gave me the names of a couple OBs she knew personally and liked, and transferred me to someone else.
I literally had to choose an OB in the time that I was on hold. More on who/how I chose later. Although obviously, if possible, my absolute first choice would be Jane.
I again repeated everything to this new receptionist. I had a positive pregnancy test. I needed to meet with special CNP lady. I needed to choose an OB. This receptionist was pretty helpful in scheduling, as she worked out a date with the CNP and my newly chosen OB that were within an hour of each other, so I could get everything done in half a day, instead of missing more work. I thanked her, and we hung up.
I go in Sept. 17.
And then I replayed it all in my head. No one told me what I'm supposed to do in the meantime. No one actually confirmed that I was pregnant. What if I made up the positive test? What if I was an idiot and couldn't even read a pregnancy test (I'm feeling a little better about this since I have the approval of a dozen internet strangers who are much more knowledgeable than myself)? No one told me to start taking prenatal vitamins (I also feel pretty well-covered in this area, as I've been taking them for the last 2.5 years, but they didn't know that)...shouldn't someone have maybe mentioned that to me? Or do people just assume everyone googles? No one told me to not drink alcohol or cut back on caffeine or quit smoking. Some of this stuff is pretty important to tell a pregnant lady early on! Yes, I'm fairly responsible and can figure most of this out, but they don't know that! I'm pretty sure that the CNP lady is going to go over all of this at my appointment with her, but by the time my appointment comes around, I'll be something like 9-10 weeks (maybe? I don't even know how to count this. No one told me!). They didn't even ask the first day of my last period, so the OB isn't going to know how far along I am when I show up that day. They really didn't ask me anything.
So, I don't know anything more. I won't know anything more, including the results of a blood test or a professional pee test, until Sept. 17. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE HOW FAR AWAY THAT IS!? It's like two, back-to-back two-week waits!
Let's move on, I'm beginning to raise my blood pressure to dangerous levels.
Let's start with choosing an OB. As I mentioned, I did this in about 12 seconds while on hold. Basically, Dr. V's nurse read off a bunch of names of both actual OBGYNs and family medicine doctors who also do OB and are taking new patients.
I was pleased when she read a particular name--let's call him Dr. G--as in the past I kinda wanted him as an OB (if it ever came to that). He's my dad's doctor. He's delivered babies in my town for many years, including half of the girls on my current volleyball team. He used to go to my church. My sister dated his son, who also dated my best friend Emma (yeah, he was a player...but hot). Also, Dr. G was Emma's doctor growing up (which was SUPER WEIRD for her while she was dating his son). I used to go to a Bible study at his house when I was in high school. He was always super nice to me and gave me great advice. Dr. G. was the first person outside of my family to push me to go to school for writing. He was a great mentor in some times when I was seriously struggling.
For most of my life I assumed I'd want a female OB. I've always had a female GP that has done my breast exams and pap smears, and I always wanted it that way. I was really shy and super self-conscious as a kid, and I would have cried to have a strange man touching me when I was a pre-teen. It was a given that I would have a female doctor. But all of my friends have had male OBs, and they've never mentioned any issues. At first, I thought having Dr. G would be really weird. I know him in real life...I'm not sure I want someone I know in real life looking at my vag all the time. Like, shouldn't I keep my real life and my doctor life separate? But, then I thought of one of the moms of two of my volleyball girls (twins) who had Dr. G. She always talked about how attentive he was, how he gave her his home number and encouraged her to call with anything, how he took extra special care of them because he also knew them in real life. Maybe that's totally unprofessional or abusing the system, but let's face it: I'm not smart. I need all the extra help I can get. So I chose Dr. G.
A few more things that are new...I guess I'm still pregnant because I haven't gotten my period yet. And my boobs? I used be a smallish C. Now I'm a solid D. And I'm pretty sure they're made of granite. I pee about 17 times a day, and I'm starving all. the. time. But everything makes me feel sick. Except for waffles. I know I need to eat protein, but the only thing I've managed to not feel super sick after eating in the last week has been Cheerios and waffles. Can I just eat breakfast all the time?
I'm also nauseated. Not like throw-up nauseated, more like seasick. I haven't thrown up yet (yet!), I just feel queasy constantly. And "morning sickness" hasn't really taken the traditional route. It's not only in the morning, it's all the time. And it's not vomit, it's poop. All. The. Time. Didn't want to know that? Sorry, me neither.
 |
| I feel you, Chris Traeger. |
It's all very overwhelming, and none of it would feel real at all, except for you, blog friends. You are the only people that know. So thanks for validating my constant pooping as something other than IBS.
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