Some days stick out in your mind: the day Scott asked me to marry him, they day we got married, the day I was diagnosed with PCOS, the first pregnancy test I took for the girls, the first time we saw the girls as two lil blob babies on an ultrasound, the day the girls were born, and now November 15th. It will now be the day I found out I was pregnant with baby #3.
Oh my goodness, rush of emotions....
Let me begin with this: when you get an infertility diagnosis you miss out on some of life's greatest surprises. I knew the date my girls were conceived, probably because it had to be scheduled and was based on 100 other factors. Unfortunately it's not a funny story we'll be able to tell E&C someday; their story is special in a whole other way and that makes it great too. But the surprise when your infertile is- omg, my body decided to react to the drugs in the intended way! I never thought we would be in this situation...
I knew there was a possibility after the girls were born that my body could sort itself out. For some reason many women have reported that a pregnancy kind of kick starts your body, or resets it, sometimes. I didn't put a lot of hope into that. Throughout our IF journey I became pessimistic to protect myself: never get your hopes, never show that hope, because there's more than just a real chance that the hope will be smashed by reality. In fact when I got my new job I remember trying to sort through the insurance issue- what policy to pick? mine or Scott's? what coverage is most beneficial to us? On a whim I asked the insurance person at work if they covered anything for infertility and I was shocked to find out they do, $10k for my lifetime. In IF world that's nothing, pretty much 1 1/2 rounds of IUI but better than completely out of pocket. I was so happy, I remember telling my SIL that there's a chance she might be an aunt again because my company would pay for my brokenness. I knew though there'd still be a battle going through IF again, Scott was worried about multiples again but I had it in my heart that I would have another baby so I was ecstatic about the insurance coverage.
For the last two weeks I have felt like crap. The first week I was in Ohio for work and had a terrible cold. I was a snotty, sneezy, worn down mess of a person trying to put on a cheery face and be new employee of the year. I remember waking up the last morning I was in Ohio, a Thursday morning, and feeling like I got hit by a bus. I was nauseous and just wanted to stay in bed. I will admit, I had a couple drinks the night before, but NOTHING that would've gave me a hangover so I attributed it to my illness. Then I had a stretch of 8 hours that weekend where I didn't feel like crap, the snot cleared up (TMI) and I thought I was returning to myself. Then the nausea returned and the fatigue. By Monday morning I felt like I had the flu and it stuck all week long. By Thursday I was waving the white flag and made a doctor's appointment, 2 weeks of being sick had to end. But since I hate just going to the doctor for one reason I made sure I had a short list: sick, broken toe still throbbing after 5 weeks, and my darn period was irregular again (I was welcoming back the PCOS symptoms in my head at this point) so I thought I would get some meds to kickstart it again. Thursday was rough for me... I was sick all day and it was kicking my butt. I almost puked in my mom's car after gymnastics and then Scott made Chinese food... the thought of the smell is making my stomach turn. That night Scott dropped his diagnosis on me: pregnant. I stayed strong in my denial because that doesn't happen to broken people. Nope, no way, this girl is BROKE.
Friday morning I was talking to my mentor explaining that I was still sick (I cancelled our weekly phone call the week before due to illness) and she asked if I was preggo. Still holding strong with "no" at that point. That morning I almost vomitted on my child when E stuck her goldfish cracker smelling hand in my mouth. But after 2 people played the "pregnant" card on me my mind started going there and I started playing the "what if" game in my head. I hate that game when it comes to pregnancy. I played that game many times in my head when we were trying to get pregnant and it always ended poorly.
So that afternoon I dropped the girls off with Nana & Papa and headed to the dr's office. After explaining my symptoms to my doc he decided to do some blood work and told me he wanted to run a pregnancy test just in case. So I did what I needed to do in the lab and was waiting for him to call me back into his office when I started texting Scott... I felt the tears coming, I knew this wasn't going to end well and I needed to prepare myself (remember the pessimism? it's a defense mechanism people!) so I started texting Scott telling him I wasn't pregnant and it's fine, but I let my mind go there and I was upset.
Here's the thing: you can't dangle that carrot with me. I might not have been planning this and it might not be the best timing but it's still that thing to me. It's the thing I couldn't achieve, that thing that always reminds me of a difficult time and a lot of pain. So I was preparing myself for something like, "Whoops, my bad, you've got mono!" Not quite what I heard when I joined my doctor in his office. I sat down and he told me I should start taking my pre-natals regularly. Then the first round of shock and tears started. I think there were at least 3 rounds of short bursts of tears in that office.
After I left I couldn't figure out how to tell Scott, but I knew I needed to tell him before I saw my parents. He answered on my 5th call (seriously) and then proceeded to NOT believe me when I told him I'm pregnant despite the fact that HE diagnosed me as pregnant just the day before! Oy...
I could probably write a lot more and maybe I'll do that later but right now I'm still basking in the joy of being 8+ weeks pregnant.
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