Two good days, two bad days.
Friday was great. A cool, sunny fall day. I had the day off, and took the day to do some much-needed errands: returning library books, getting my cell phone fixed, BUYING YARN (yes, that is always awesome), and enjoying a delicious junk-food lunch (thank you, Wendy's) while lingering over a good book.
Saturday was equally as great. Matt and I got up, went to the farmers market, took our stash onward to the Morton Arboretum for a picnic by Lake Marmo, and then came home to watch baseball and snuggle on the couch. That evening, we went out to Barnes and Noble to browse, then stopped by our favorite restaurant for dessert. For me, it was really important to have a good and distracting Saturday. Our last pregnancy only made it one week, and for this pregnancy, Saturday was that day. So it was a strange milestone, and we made it through with flying colors!
Then yesterday. Sunday. Woke up, all was well. Went to church, all was well. Stopped by the bathroom after church on our way out...all was NOT well. Brown spotting. Lots of flashbacks. I went home, put my feet up, took a nap, and alternated between feeling sleepy/lazy and feeling utterly depressed.
This morning, I went into the doctor to get things checked out. It was honestly eerie how similar this appointment was to my appointment back in January 2010. Hearing the same hopeful words from the nurse who took my vitals - that spotting is common in early pregnancy, that it's good if it's brown and not bright red, that there was reason to be hopeful. Hearing the EXACT same words from the doctor during my exam: "Well, your cervix is closed, so that's good. But there is more blood than I'd like to see." Seriously. The exact same words. And the same gameplan: bloodwork today, bloodwork in two days, an ultrasound scheduled for late this week. Everything is inconclusive at this point. We know nothing until my bloodwork comes back, or perhaps not until after my second round on Wednesday. Unless, of course, something actually happens between now and then. Which means that I am a perpetual nervous wreck.
I'm feeling a jumble of things right now. I feel sad and defeated, trying to figure out why we have to struggle so hard not only GETTING pregnant, but STAYING pregnant. I am royally pissed off at God right now. Seriously. How can the creator and sustainer of life not appear to pay any attention to the prayers of little old me, who is praying for exactly that - the creating and sustaining of life?
I'm mad because this pregnancy's timing was so damn perfect.
I had made peace with not having been pregnant for so long, believing that the universe was holding out so that I could have the chance to go to Tanzania this summer, which I did. We got pregnant on our very first try with Clomid and Novarel. The timing meant that we would get to tell my family on my Dad's birthday this November, and that we would get to tell Matt's family on Thanksgiving weekend - this is the first Thanksgiving in years that we had already planned on flying out there to celebrate with them. We would have been due in late May, which means the best time of year to be pregnant (that is...NOT summer), and we would've had a chance at adding another birthday to my family's propensity toward June birthdays.
I'm angry that I let myself get invested, because I had promised myself I wouldn't. I'm sad. I'm angry at my body for failing me so miserably. I'm feeling depressed and defeated. I had made peace with all of my friends and acquaintances who were pregnant or who have newborns...and now I can't deal with even thinking about them, which makes me feel like a horrible person.
I want to hope for the best, I really do, but I have zero reason to believe that this pregnancy is going to stick. I so often trend optimistic and hopeful in life...and it makes me sad that I am such a pessimist right now.
Friday was great. A cool, sunny fall day. I had the day off, and took the day to do some much-needed errands: returning library books, getting my cell phone fixed, BUYING YARN (yes, that is always awesome), and enjoying a delicious junk-food lunch (thank you, Wendy's) while lingering over a good book.
Saturday was equally as great. Matt and I got up, went to the farmers market, took our stash onward to the Morton Arboretum for a picnic by Lake Marmo, and then came home to watch baseball and snuggle on the couch. That evening, we went out to Barnes and Noble to browse, then stopped by our favorite restaurant for dessert. For me, it was really important to have a good and distracting Saturday. Our last pregnancy only made it one week, and for this pregnancy, Saturday was that day. So it was a strange milestone, and we made it through with flying colors!
Then yesterday. Sunday. Woke up, all was well. Went to church, all was well. Stopped by the bathroom after church on our way out...all was NOT well. Brown spotting. Lots of flashbacks. I went home, put my feet up, took a nap, and alternated between feeling sleepy/lazy and feeling utterly depressed.
This morning, I went into the doctor to get things checked out. It was honestly eerie how similar this appointment was to my appointment back in January 2010. Hearing the same hopeful words from the nurse who took my vitals - that spotting is common in early pregnancy, that it's good if it's brown and not bright red, that there was reason to be hopeful. Hearing the EXACT same words from the doctor during my exam: "Well, your cervix is closed, so that's good. But there is more blood than I'd like to see." Seriously. The exact same words. And the same gameplan: bloodwork today, bloodwork in two days, an ultrasound scheduled for late this week. Everything is inconclusive at this point. We know nothing until my bloodwork comes back, or perhaps not until after my second round on Wednesday. Unless, of course, something actually happens between now and then. Which means that I am a perpetual nervous wreck.
I'm feeling a jumble of things right now. I feel sad and defeated, trying to figure out why we have to struggle so hard not only GETTING pregnant, but STAYING pregnant. I am royally pissed off at God right now. Seriously. How can the creator and sustainer of life not appear to pay any attention to the prayers of little old me, who is praying for exactly that - the creating and sustaining of life?
I'm mad because this pregnancy's timing was so damn perfect.
I had made peace with not having been pregnant for so long, believing that the universe was holding out so that I could have the chance to go to Tanzania this summer, which I did. We got pregnant on our very first try with Clomid and Novarel. The timing meant that we would get to tell my family on my Dad's birthday this November, and that we would get to tell Matt's family on Thanksgiving weekend - this is the first Thanksgiving in years that we had already planned on flying out there to celebrate with them. We would have been due in late May, which means the best time of year to be pregnant (that is...NOT summer), and we would've had a chance at adding another birthday to my family's propensity toward June birthdays.
I'm angry that I let myself get invested, because I had promised myself I wouldn't. I'm sad. I'm angry at my body for failing me so miserably. I'm feeling depressed and defeated. I had made peace with all of my friends and acquaintances who were pregnant or who have newborns...and now I can't deal with even thinking about them, which makes me feel like a horrible person.
I want to hope for the best, I really do, but I have zero reason to believe that this pregnancy is going to stick. I so often trend optimistic and hopeful in life...and it makes me sad that I am such a pessimist right now.
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