Today, I’m eight weeks pregnant with Baby Squish (because who doesn’t love that part of Finding Nemo? I do!).
That means I’ve known about this little tadpole for a little over a month, and honestly: it doesn’t feel any more real than it did the day I found out. It’s sort of a bizarre feeling. I’m SO excited, but it’s tempered excitement, full of “ifs” rather than “whens.” I wonder if that’s because my body knows it’s not going to end well and I’m mentally preparing for an event that will happen in the future (in which case, sign me up for the psychic hotline, right?) or if it’s just normal pregnancy (particularly pregnancy-after-loss) worries and anxiety. I lean towards the latter, but I’m terrified of the former.
We got to see Squish’s heart beat last week, and got an official due date of December 17 (that’s the third due date for those of you keeping track at home – December 20, based on ovulation; December 12, based on LMP; and now December 17, based on baby measurements).
Symptom-wise, it’s just EXHAUSTION and BLOAT. And yes, those need to be capitalized. And bolded. And underlined. I am SO tired every single day. I take a nap when Carys naps. Then I go to bed at 8:30 or 9. Then I wake up at 11. Then at 3. Then at 5. Nothing I’ve found helps me stay asleep (ok, I’ve only tried Unisom since my pharma friend okayed that BUT PROBABLY NOTHING ELSE WOULD WORK). I’m also so bloated; I have a rock-hard stomach that looks about 14 weeks pregnant at any given time. I’m on progesterone supplements until I hit 12 weeks, and two of the side effects are drowsiness and bloat. So combine the typical 1st tri symptoms of tiredness and bloat with the side effects of tiredness and bloat and basically I never had a chance. I’ve been lucky that the morning sickness has been virtually non-existent – a few mornings of feeling generally kind of hung over, but no actual puking. And it’s hard to separate the exhaustion from the hungover feeling since feed off each other.
Poor Carys has officially started feeling second child syndrome and is experiencing all the ways she’ll be shucked to the side once the new, shiny baby is here. Because of the exhaustion, she’s watched more TV in the past month than she did in her entire previous life. I’ve managed to keep it slightly acceptable by limiting it to PBS Kids shows (with a sprinkle of Thomas, Yo Gabba Gabba, and Finding Nemo) (ok, who am I kidding? This is NOT acceptable!) but I still feel terrible. I’ve also been so tired that I’ve found it hard to keep up the motivation to really cook good meals for her, so neither of us have eaten that well recently. And all the wonderful, fun activities I had been doing with her? Gone. Nary a planned craft in sight.
Completely inexplicably, she’s also taken to blowing bubbles on and kissing my stomach. She’s never been interested in it before, other than pointing out my belly button, but she must be feeding off some subliminal messages, because it’s a constant focus of hers. When Baby Squish starts moving around, her little mind is going to be BLOWN TO BITS.
Right now my goal is just to survive the next few weeks til I make it to the second trimester and a) hopefully get some energy back and b) get to see Squish at the NT scan. Going five weeks without knowing that he or she is okay and kicking….that may be the most stressful part of this whole thing.
Please be okay, Baby Squish. Please.