It is hard to feel pregnant when…I don’t.
Symptoms? Oh, there are a few, I guess. But are they in my head? Are they related to the progesterone I’m taking? Or are they for real, for real? In the past couple weeks, I have felt:
- Twinges, cramps, pinching, and all sorts of pelvic weirdness
- The need to pee a lot
- A change in my poop, now alternating between rabbit pellet poop and rather loose stools (Sorry for the gross topic, but for a “regular” girl like me who is used to seeing healthy-looking poop, this is a noticeable change. And though I know diarrhea can be a sign of an impending miscarriage, I have seen these changes in all my pregnancies, so I’m trying not to obsess over this.)
- Fatigue (maybe — I’m always tired, so it’s hard to say if it’s gotten any worse)
- Increased hunger (another maybe)
But what I haven’t felt is what I very much want to:
- breast changes
Those are the three symptoms (plus the poop stuff) that I remember most with my one healthy pregnancy, the one that gave me Cupcake, and it bugs me to no end that I’m not suffering from it now. Especially because I’m probably close to seven weeks at this point and I started feeling those things with my daughter very early on (some of them even before I got my BFP). As my dear friend Lillian told me in a recent e-mail during one of her own pregnancy freak outs,”I just feel too good.” And I do. I feel too good. I felt good during my second pregnancy, the one that didn’t end well, and I feel good now and it’s hard not to compare the two. And I know that it may not mean anything. I know every pregnancy is different. I know some people never feel significant symptoms. I know some don’t feel them until 8 weeks or so. I know my beta was high…which means things could very well be fine. But still…it’s hard not to ponder it every. waking. second.
I’m trying to prepare for the worst and hope for the best simultaneously. I have cleared all of next weekend and the week that follows in case there is bad news and all I want to do is stay in bed. And there are things that I won’t allow myself to do this time around. No buying baby things early on. No sorting through my maternity clothes from three years ago. No telling my sister the news yet. No making plans. But I have allowed myself to take a few steps in the direction of hope: Telling a few people (my mom and three friends who have been with me on my journey). Browsing the maternity section at Target. Recording “bumpdates” in my journal. And taking weekly bump photos. Not that there is a bump yet, but this is something I did with my daughter from the moment I got my BFP and I want to have it for my next baby too, should this little Skittle actually turn into a baby we bring home. I did it with my Teddy Graham as well, and I cherish those photos because they are the few keepsakes I have from my short pregnancy. So those strong feelings pretty much cemented my decision that I would be doing it for this one too.
And as I wait for Feb 8, I’m looking for little signs all around. Like, maybe the universe will tell me something before I have solid answers from an u/s. I hang on to that image of the rainbow I saw the weekend before my BFP. Was that a sign before I even knew it was? And on Glee on Thursday, they sang “A Thousand Years” (by Christina Perri), which I have always felt is my ode to the baby I am waiting for. And yesterday I chose a random children’s book at the library and the little boy in the book had the name that has always been my favorite boy’s name. And last night, I dreamed about shopping for baby girl clothes. Oh! And I have this photo cube in our bedroom and one of the photos was taken during my first pregnancy. The other day, I spun it around and said to myself, “If it lands on my pregnancy photo, then I’ll get to keep this baby,” and it did. I know I am grabbing at threads, but it’s all I have.
I want this baby. I do. Obviously. But if it doesn’t work out? I will not lament this lost time. These bittersweet memories. (Well, in the throes of grief, maybe I will a little.) Lillian and I have talked about this a lot since my BFP. And she said something that has stuck with me: If this doesn’t end well, I still have these memories. The happiness that swarmed my heart with my surprise BFP. The excitement I heard in my Honey’s voice. The celebrations we had. The way that, for two weeks or however many, I lived on the edge of hope, a hope I had not had in some time. That’s something that a miscarriage, a loss, a broken heart, can’t steal from me.
But still…please, God, let there be a heartbeat on Friday. Please oh please.