I forget I’m Pregnant

I tend to forget I am pregnant. Aside from the “I need a nap” days and the “My God my boobs are huge” days, I don’t feel any different. Its kind of odd.

Its so odd that I am beginning to worry. I have experienced spotting and streaking and a little bit of black clotty stuff here and there and yet, the doctor, over the phone, techniquely through his nurse, says everything is fine unless I am gushing blood. My partner believes them, and she says I am just getting worked up for nothing. SO. I will calm the hell down.

But! I admit, I haven’t vomited, except when I brush my teeth a few times, and I going through cycles of constipation/diarrea every three days. I will not feel better about this until I can feel my little one kick me. I know, most people don’t really relish in the idea of the baby kicking them, but given the way we did this, I just want the child to kick me. Just once.

I know I should be counting my blessings that I am simply mildly nauseous, but I am not experiencing the morning, noon, and night sickness, but damnit, I really just am too freaked out.

My mother and my sister, I can tell, think I am crazy, since I don’t eat tuna, and I don’t want a C-Section, and I don’t want to be induced, unless absolutely necessary, but frankly, I don’t care if they think I’m nuts. I don’t have a penis on speed dial. I really will be devastated if I lose this child.

I have no indication that it will happen or that it is immenient, but I can’t be the ONLY first time mom out there who has panicked at the slightest hint of red or checked her toilet paper like a Nazi!

We are on week 11 and the baby is ‘the size of a fig’ – now, I am incredibly glad that BabyCenter.com gave me a picture, because I personally had no idea what a fig looked like. Here’s a picture for you, in case, you too had no idea what a fig looked like.
I am looking forward to my next doctor’s appointment at 12 weeks, which will be next week. We will get to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Until then, perhaps sooner.

Suckville Week

Otherwise Known As Worries and Little Sleep
My first appointment with the OB was about a week ago. We went over just about everything and the one thing that stood out to me was Postpartum depression. He mentioned that since I was originally on Prozac for anxiety and mood swings that I was more susceptible to having Postpartum depression when the baby comes.

This is not something that I am interested in having or experiencing. My partner pointed out last night that I have been lashing out for no reason at all, or at the smallest little things. I figured it was due to the hormones, but really, I think its the fact that I have been off my medication for well over 2 months, since I stopped taking the pills before we started trying. Prozac was the one thing that kept my moods pretty stable and I was a pretty nice person to be around.

Add to this lack of medication, the constant need for sleep and not getting it, and you have a time bomb in my body waiting to explode. Well, it exploded last night. Something ridiculously stupid got me so worked up that I was crying on the couch for a good thirty minutes about how none of my jeans fit me and I’m not even showing yet and I can’t do anything right.

Let me explain this. I have been a smoker since I was about 16 years old. That’s about 11 years now. When we decided to try and have a baby, I decided that I should quit smoking. Well needless to say, 7 weeks into this pregnancy and I am still smoking. I want everyone to know that I have cut back a lot and for the most part I may smoke 1 or 2 cigarettes a day, at the most 5, depending on the day. However, I don’t think people realize how incredibly guilty I feel that I can’t just kick this stupid as hell addiction. I know that people don’t understand how guilty I feel because I am constantly listening to the comments. “Aren’t you going to quit?” “Don’t you know you shouldn’t be smoking?” “Smoking is bad for the baby.” Look people. I AM AWARE.

So now my week is no medication, no sleep, and guilt over cigarettes. Oh no, you would think it would stop there. It doesn’t.
On top of that, I am bitchy at work. Now, generally, I like my job. Its easy and it pays the bills. However, if you have ever worked in a call center, you know that its stressful and people are so much more bold over the phone than they ever would be in person. So, instead, my days generally go like this. Let’s add this to everything else and its still not where it ends.
My jeans don’t fit, I pee every thirty freaking minutes, my animals are forever trying to trip me on the way to the bathroom, my dog thinks she needs to cuddle with me, while its 100 degrees in our apartment and she runs that on her own, my feet are swollen, I have no ankles, my fingers fall asleep at the drop of a dime. I CANNOT SLEEP. Its like everything is piling up on top of me and I don’t really know where to begin or end. No one prepared me for all of this.
My partner …. she’s had enough. Besides the fact that she has her own shit to deal with. Starting with losing her job to do BiPolar Disorder and feeling like a worthless contributor, which she is not. However, because she is not working right now, and she is not getting any money coming it at the moment, though, she’s working on it, we are looking at more and more bills piling up and more and more stress to be had.
So, now, I have my shit and her shit and let’s put it all on my shoulders … carry it around and never take it off. I mean, really, is all this necessary.
7 weeks is not that far along. This baby has a whole lot of baking to do and for crying out loud, this is just 1 week of the many that will likely stress me out. I am trying so very hard to be zen and calm about things. I am trying not to let things freak me out or stress me out, but in reality, I’m a bundle of nerves and a ball of fire waiting to explode.
I am beginning to wonder if I will make it through the next 8 months in tact and with my sanity. Thus the reason for worrying about Postpartum Depression. Let’s all just cross our fingers that it doesn’t happen and this gets better, emotionally.

No Longer Living Through Someone Else

Out From Behind My Little Sister’s Shadow
My sister and I
I am the child of divorced and remarried parents. This means I have a plethora of brothers and sisters. 5 brothers and 2 sisters to be exact. I am the second oldest of this sibling menagerie. This blog post however, is about my sister. You see, she and I have always been close. We are six years apart in age, which has always been interesting to me, how the hell were we ever close, it was like she tagged along and I sort of … let her.
Flash forward to more appropriate times. My sister was a teen mother. By the time she became a teen mother, I was already in my relationship with my partner. We had already resolved ourselves that we would likely not have the chance to have a child and thus the first time I laid eyes on my niece I was in love. That little girl was my beautiful sunshine, the apple of my eye, the absolute reason for my existence.
In most cases, when a girl gets pregnant at 15, their family is pretty shocked and our family was no different, it was just different for me. While I wished that she didn’t have to deal with diapers, screaming, and extra mommy duties at such a young age, I was so very ready to spoil this child rotten!
Now, let’s get to the confession part. I have been jealous of my little sister for probably a good portion, if not all of the last four and a half years. She probably doesn’t know this and I have yet to decide if I want to let her know about this blog so that she can finally know.
Basically, my sister has two babies and one on the way. For a lesbian without much chance of making the baby making dreams of her own come true, at the time, I just wanted to say “Enough is ENOUGH.” While I was happy for her, the more she got pregnant, the more depressed I got. 
Pumpkin and Monkey – Poodle is still in the Belly
Although, its really hard to stay depressed around these faces! I mean really. You can’t. Instead, you deal with the hand you have been dealt and you move on. At least, that’s what I thought before I found a way to make my own baby making dreams come true.
Now that I am pregnant, I don’t have to live through my sister, I don’t have to be jealous of her, even though I was so very happy for her and still am incredibly proud of her for growing up, putting her big girl panties on and raising the hell out of her two and a half babies.  I am glad, because I didn’t like that feeling. I didn’t like the resentment and the wishing, the longing and the saddness. The disappointment.
Now that I am pregnant, I don’t have to be jealous and that makes me feel great! And soon, my niece and nephew and little Poodle on the way will have their very own cousin! I know I had so much fun with my cousins. They really are the first friends that we ever really have growing up and its awesome that we are growing our family to include cousins!
So, in a small way, I have been thinking about how I have so much more in common with my sister, who has always been one of my best friends. I know I can call her for those weird cravings and those strange cramping pains and those all hours of the night tingling sensations in my feet and she will understand. She really is the know-it-all of all things babies and I am so lucky to have her on speed dial.