Tomorrow is that magical day: I will be twelve weeks pregnant, and out of my first trimester. Well, unless you believe that 14 weeks is really the end of the first trimester. Whatever.
All I know is that I want to stop fucking vomiting. It’s been better, these last few days—I had a great weekend, really did well. But both Sunday and Tuesday nights I threw up AGAIN. I’m really frustrated and exhausted with it. I need to feel better, and I need to feel better soon.
There has been some interesting discussing lately by getupgrrl and others about how insensitive people are always telling us infertiles that “pregnancy isn’t all that great, you’re not missing out on much.” I agree, wholeheartedly, that most of these people are shitting, rather than speaking, out of their mouths, and that they don’t think before they do either (shit or speak, I mean).
But I wonder if some of them feel like I do—completely and utterly ripped off by the whole pregnancy thing. I’ve spent the last two months being so sick I can barely function, and barely live my life. I have moments, frequently, when I wish I wasn’t pregnant, just so I could feel something resembling normal. I feel fairly certain that if I were to lose these babies, I would never be willing to succumb to pregnancy again.
If those insensitive fertiles are anything like me, they are bitter and angry that they didn’t to have a magical pregnancy. Plus, they’re probably pissed off that parenting is such hard work and so difficult too. Maybe their bitterness just flows out of them unintentionally. Maybe that’s why they shit out their mouths. I don’t know.
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Yesterday we had our CVS testing. Well, I had the testing, while my husband sat next to me and ate the free crackers they kindly put out in the Gowned Waiting Area for us pregnant ladies.
The genetic counselor we had was one of the loveliest women I’ve ever met. I was so anxious, my heart was going 5465987 miles a minute (I was terrified they’d take my blood pressure), and she calmed me right down. She explained everything about the procedure to us, outlined all possible results, and then took our family history (which is TOTALLY boring if you take out the white trash elements and the alcoholism).
Then we got the long ultrasound where they measure everything under the sun. Everything came back normal, although they could only do the nuchal fold measurement on one baby (it was 1.7!) because that baby was on top of the other one.
I think they also had some trouble with the ultrasound because of my weight (obviously, they did not use the dildo cam!).
I have been cursed with what us fat people call an “apron” which is a huge roll? flap? mound? of fat that hangs from my stomach like, uh, an apron. In order to do abdominal ultrasounds, I get to suffer the humiliation of lifting said apron out of the way.
And the CVS required my exposed belly be shared with at least five new people. I don’t like this—pregnant or not, I’m ashamed of my belly, and I don’t like it being acknowledged in any way. Let me just say, it was awful, and I spent much of that time wishing desperately that I wasn’t pregnant so I could get back to the business of weight loss, and possibly a tummy tuck (don’t laugh—after the babies, I may do that).
The rest of the time I was in pain. The ultrasound hurt, because she had to push so hard to see, and the two CVS tests sucked. They did one through the cervix, and one through the abdomen. It didn’t last long, but it left me shaking and weak.
But they got a fair amount of tissue, and I’ve already stopped spotting. Full results take about nine days (which means about the 26th) but I could have some preliminary results tomorrow after 3pm.
Very excited. Not really scared—I think the kiddos are ok, but I’m excited to know for sure. Combine that with the end of the first trimester, and Thursday’s FINAL visit to my RE, and maybe I can start to enjoy this pregnancy.
If I stop vomiting, of course.
