Okay, I’ve been hiding behind my computer screen because I wasn’t ready to let the “world” know that… well… I’m pregnant! Okay, big deal, right? People get pregnant all the time? Sure, but how many of them get pregnant with a 3-year-old and twin one year olds roaming around a tiny little house? Not many, I can tell you that, especially not in my corner of the world. In fact, I haven’t told everyone yet (it’s not “Facebook public” yet) but I figure since I’ve been so lax about posting (and this is a practically virgin blog-site) that if I don’t link to FB I can hide here another few days–got that: if you get here and see this before my FB post just keep your mouth shut 😉
So, the journey. It began one brisk October day when I felt that familiar cramping and thought, “oh, joy, it’s almost ‘that time’ again.” A few days passed and the cramps came and went and I thought, “oh god, could it possibly be THAT time again????” For, with my previous two pregnancies I knew that I was pregnant before I took the test… feeling like AF (aunt flo, haha) was about to arrive and then she didn’t day after day. I thought, “I’ll just take a test to relieve my mind when it’s negative” as I’ve done many times before. But it wasn’t negative and I wasn’t very relieved.
I probably would have fallen off the toilet if my butt weren’t such a large anchor. Seriously, what the heck was I supposed to do NOW? My twins had just turned one and I had just wrapped my head around the idea that a baby right now, as I was preparing to open a home daycare (only 2 kids under two allowed at a time, I’ll have 3 for three months) and figuring out how (and I guess still a little if) I was really going to resign my position as a teacher after this year of child rearing leave and still manage to feed my family. Just as an aside here: my husband has a good job with good insurance however one of his average paychecks is equal or less than our mortgage leaving us about 50% of the remaining income to pay all bills, buy groceries, pay for preschool, and buy everything else a growing family might need… hence the home daycare idea. Oh, and the cost of daycare for the three kids exceeded my take home pay even with something like a nanny so I’d be working to pay for spending time away from my kids… just didn’t work for my husband and I!
So, although I didn’t cry (that day), I totally freaked out. I debated whether or not to ever tell my husband cause I KNEW he’d totally freak out. In the end (I think the day after I told him) we both agreed that this really didn’t change much of our plans. The house was already too small and one more small body wouldn’t make much difference. We already couldn’t afford daycare anyway so even though we hadn’t officially said it out loud and I hadn’t officially turned any paperwork in we both knew I would be resigning my position. I guess it was hard accepting that our plans were changing and that decisions were becoming official before we had the chance to admit it to ourselves.
Accepting that it was real (cause sometimes I still don’t even believe I have twins, let alone am pregnant again!) was not the hardest part, getting over the post traumatic stress of the twin pregnancy was. I felt okay for a week or so then it hit me and I was ill all the time. I don’t mean I was puking, I don’t even mean I was moaning and writhing in agony, nothing like that. I just constantly (other than about 15 minutes right after I woke up) felt carsick. That nausea and head blah-ness that makes you just want to lay down and close your eyes in the hopes it will pass. But it never passed. It was a constant and consistently worsening feeling. I managed, I mean I’d made a pact to myself that this pregnancy COULD NOT stop me in my tracks the way the twin pregnancy did. I vowed I would continue to keep up the house and do what needed to be done with my family as much as possible, giving in only to my need for an earlier bedtime. As I felt crappier and crappier (and the near death of our fridge, craft fairs and freak october snowstorms that knocked out most of the power in the state hit) I began to freak out. I couldn’t handle another pregnancy like the last… I couldn’t! I started to feel like if I lost this baby I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to try for another because I didn’t know if I’d be able to purposefully do this to myself (and my family, they were suffering too) again. Even the thought of 6-8 more weeks of this (and my crap feeling with the twins lasted almost the entire pregnancy, it just changed over time from trimester to trimester) was an intolerable thought, but what could I do? What’s done is done, right?
Yep, that was my mantra for those weeks: What’s done is done, no use complaining, what-ifing, or even dreaming of the day it’d be over, it was done and I’d have to live through it.
Then came the gas.
No, we were not undergoing a chemical attack from terrorists, though my husband might disagree. It was me. Oh, god it was HORRIBLE!!! I had gas pain and discomfort ALL DAY LONG. I felt sicker than I had before and almost threw up many times (still very glad I didn’t actually throw up, I sympathize with those moms that do!). It got worse and worse and didn’t seem better if I ate. I was already drinking an obscene amount of water and on the advice of a friend I started to substitute some of my water for milk or juice (calories be damned!). Still, I was death to all who entered my bedroom at night. I’d never experienced anything so foul and felt that it just couldn’t be right. As a scientist I decided to start eliminating variables: what could cause such issues? Gastrointestinal distress. What causes that? Foods… most likely Dairy. AH!!!! What would I do without my cheese and chocolate milk and yogurt snacks, seriously WHAT WOULD I EAT? But it had to be done and the new regime started immediately. No more dairy.
Within days I was “cured”! My symptoms went away and I felt like a human again. In fact I barely felt pregnant at all! This was more like it, this is what it should be like. Nine weeks and I was through the worst of it.
All of a sudden the future began to look brighter, a little glimmer of joy appeared when I thought of growing a big belly and then holding a new bundle of joy. All that drama and suffering… because of dairy. Stupid lactose…
So here I am, 13 weeks pregnant today with a glorious pregnancy and birth ahead of me. Oh, did I mention we’re having this one at home? Yep. Absolutely!