I hate when people blog about not blogging. They never give interesting reasons. Its not like they say, "my kid got a subdermal hematoma and I've been at his bedside for the past 3 months of surgeries." And then go into fascinating details of the last 3 months they spent touring Cambodia. Its always the errands, the house, general boring business.
Its not as interesting as a brain injury but it feels like its related. I haven't been blogging because I've been pregnant. And terrified. Like too scared to blog about it. Too scared to anything. Too hormonal to anything either. Too JESUS-WHAT-HAPPENED-TO-MY-BOOBS to anything. Seriously, they're huge. Like 2 sizes bigger. The doctor actually said "What's going to happen to you when you're milk comes in?" Not comforting. "That's when the bazonga boobs usually hit." Yes, she said "bazonga boobs." I kind of love her.
So I got knocked up. Which just doesn't look all that interesting in print. Its pretty much taking over my mind though. I stalk people on these pregnancy sites where they talk about how your little maggot is giving up his tale and opting for a central nervous system and it makes me all gooshy. And I read people's comments and it all seems so mundane and normal. Even the miscarriages.
But my miscarriage tore me apart. I've dealt with loss before. Friends, lovers, grandparents, mentors. And I could hang. But with this, I just couldn't. I probly faked it ok if you weren't looking too closely. But it hurt every part of my being. And it really hurt my marriage.
So when I found out, it was like I'd ticked an item off of my to do list. Like the next step was to get pregnant again and we'd done that but it wasn't time to be pleased/satisfied/happy. Just another thing done.
Oh yeah, and I feel like shit. Tired, grouchy, nauseated, like I'm going to burp and a cumquat's going to come out. I don't love it.
So I went to the doctor right away. Cuz they told me to and I listen to doctors when I'm scared as it turns out. So I went.
And they looked and said they could see something on the ultrasound (see also, wand they shove up your twat to use sound waves to look at blobs that could be an elbow, a sea monkey, or a baby.) That was good. Everything looked good.
So they said come back in 2 weeks and we should see a heartbeat. And we did. And that should've been good. But it kind of wasn't.
Because they also saw some abnormal dark spots. And they said it could be bleeding. They said it could be a mole. (see also two sperm that are so gay for each other that they unite in an empty egg and try to make a baby. Turns out they can make it pretty far that way.) Or it could be nothing.
Wait two more weeks and come back. Which was torture. Its hard to not think/worry about it when the "it" you're NOT worrying about is making you feel like complete shit all the time and also you're keeping your complete shit mood/shit feelings a secret.
After waiting about 5 days I started to come around a little. My odds were good. I decided not to worry and did pretty well at it actually. Doctors do a good job of telling you what could go wrong but it doesn't mean you have to get all paranoid and think it WILL go wrong.
So last week we went back. And the little thing's tail is gone. Its heart is still beating. Its growing. Its good. And I'm happier. Not quite the ecstatic I was the first time around. But I'm not in a depressed terror either. And that's good enough for me for now.