Thursday, April 8, 2010

Worry Wart

This has been a relatively easy pregnancy so far. I've had no morning sickness. The fatigue everyone talks about makes me laugh—you people want fatigue? Try having thyroid disorder sometime and then we'll talk fatigue! I kept up my exercise routine with a few adjustments, tried to add more fruits and veggies into my diet, and kept on living life.
The worst part has been the worry. I'm a terrible worrier. I think I inherited it from my father. In the past, my inclination to worry about any and everything has caused me to be an insomniac. I'm pretty much over that now, but I still worry. Ask me to carry a tiny human inside of me and you're asking for trouble. Add to it that all over the Internet are people talking about what can go wrong, and the first trimester can be a pretty miserable time. I kept waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. My husband, unlike yours truly, is the eternal optimist. He felt from the start that everything was going to be great; or at least that's what he let on. He was excited to start sharing our news with others immediately and I was poised to wait until at least the 12-week mark, when the chance of miscarriage is greatly reduced.
Two weeks after my first doctor's appointment we had an ultrasound to see our little peanut. There it was, heartbeat and all. A part of me breathed a huge sigh of relief. I'd read about so many blighted ovums and missed miscarriages that I had convinced myself that this was not going to be okay. Good things don't happen to me!
I agreed that since the ultrasound was so good, we could tell our parents. They were just a tiny bit excited. I don't think people expected us to have kids at this point, 10 years into our marriage. Not that it was anyone's damn business. Frankly, I'm not sure we expected ourselves to give in. But as they say ... if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Our parents agreed not to tell anyone until we gave the word. There were just so many people we wanted to tell ourselves, and we didn't want them to be hurt that they heard it from someone else.
We kept it quiet for another two weeks and then decided to tell our sisters. I was still nervous since I was only 10 weeks at the time, but finally gave in. The following weekend, we told close friends. When I finally hit the 12-week mark, I told my boss and co-workers.
It all seems like it went so fast now, but oh, how those weeks dragged on. Each week new worries plagued me, as each twinge set my nerves on edge. I knew that I wouldn't feel we were out of the woods until we heard the heartbeat. Sure, we saw it at almost 8 weeks, but things can happen, you know? At my 10-week appointment, my doctor wanted to wait to try to hear the heartbeat. It was a little too soon, he said, and he didn't want to cause anyone undue worry (HA!). I agreed, although I was a little bummed. We'd have to wait another four weeks.

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