Phew

For the first time in the last three years, I've made it through April without the baby(ies) dying. Two years ago last Sunday I had my first miscarriage; a year ago today I had my second. But today is May 1, and this kid still has a heartbeat and is still moving around. I'm starting to believe this might actually happen.

Last week I bought things for the baby for the first time -- I spent a big 40 bucks on a crib sheet and blanket. It's not that I don't have anything; it's just that I'm hugely fortunate to have many generous friends and family members. I partly haven't bought things because so far I haven't needed to, and I partly haven't bought things because -- even though there's ton of baby stuff in my house right now, provided by others -- I'm a bit superstitious.

There are still tons of things to do -- figure out legal stuff, decide about cloth v. disposable, decide about circumcision in the hospital vs. a mohel (don't bother flaming me; comments are moderated for a reason), get the baby's room ready, maybe pick out a few names, find a daycare center. But things are progressing: we've taken our childbirth, newborn care, and breastfeeding classes. I've got a dresser full of gifted baby clothes and a closet full of receiving blankets. I've got a stroller, a crib, a glider on the way, and two slings. And that's before the two showers that incredibly lovely and generous people are throwing for us.

Still: I'll believe it when I see it.

75 percent

Many mazels to Nikole and John and Sara and Erin -- it's lovely to have read your blogs for so long and see the long-anticipated fruits of your labors. Congratulations!

I cannot believe that I may be next. I'm now 30 weeks pregnant. The baby moves often -- the other day I decided s/he will be a gymnast because of all the apparent somersaults -- which makes it pretty easy not to wonder if it's alive. Still I worry: just last night I dreamt I was bleeding and had to call the midwife at 4 am. But at some point in the last several months the anxiety changed: for a long time I worried I'd lose the pregnancy; now I worry about preterm labor.

But so far I've been incredibly fortunate. Placenta previa has been ruled out, thank God, and every doctor's appointment has been fine. Baby seems to be growing appropriately, my blood pressure hasn't gone through the roof (though, pessimist that I am, I still worry I'm doomed to preeclampsia), and I have felt either none or few contractions. I'm having a non-stress test in a couple of weeks -- a reward for being both old and an IVF patient. But beyond that, I'm free to do whatever activities I like, within reason. I've been incredibly lucky in terms of how I'm feeling: I'm tired, but I'm still exercising nearly every day (mostly walking and yoga, with the occasional half-mile swim), still moving around at mostly my normal pace. My goal is to continue that as long as possible.

I don't, however, always look pregnant -- even at 7 months someone yesterday said she wouldn't have known unless I'd told her. I haven't had a single stranger ask me when I'm due, something I always expected, and I think I've netted a total of two BART seats thanks to my 'condition.' It's definitely disappointing to have imagined looking big and pregnant, and instead to just look big and fat. I think it makes the weight gain (about 20 lbs so far, totally normal) a bit harder to stomach. My original goal was to gain no more than 25 lbs during this pregnancy, but now I'm trying to be comfortable with 30. Sure, you might say, that's totally fine and you're being all crazy paranoid obsessive-about-your-weight lady. Yup, you got it! But you may also recall that I lost 75 lbs about five years ago. I've medaled at gaining weight, and I want to make sure I can lose it again.

As I've written before, in 2006 and 2007 I began April pregnant and ended it with a miscarriage. Even though I generally like the month of April, it began to seem like the cruelest month, indeed, a while back. Here's hoping 2008 improves April's reputation.

Seasons

This pregnancy is nicely arranged around the seasons. It began around the autumn equinox, and it's scheduled to end (allegedly) around the first day of summer. As I near the end of the second trimester, I've spent all of fall and winter pregnant.

Which brings us to spring, one of my favorite seasons. Love the flowers, the strawberries, the fava beans and asparagus. For the last three years, I've spent the beginning of spring pregnant. Last year April began with the news of my second pregnancy, and it ended with a D&C.

This year things are looking -- keninah horah (or however you spell that) -- different. So far, this baby has been deemed by all to be in fine shape. We passed the amnio, passed the 20-week ultrasound, passed the gestational diabetes test (phew!). It moves around a lot, especially at certain times, and I haven't used my fetal heart monitor in weeks, because I know from its movement that it's okay in there.

Apparently my 20-week ultrasound revealed what might be a low-lying placenta, so on Friday we're having an extra ultrasound to see if placenta previa (where the placenta lies very close to or on top of the cervix -- bad) is on the menu. Of course I did the research and found out you're at a greater risk for PP if you're over the age of 35 (check) and have had previous uterine surgery -- like, say, a D&C or two (check). The nurse at my midwife's office has assured me the chances are slight, even with my history, so I'm trying to be optimistic. Especially because placenta previa would severely interfere with some upcoming travel plans. Cross your fingers.

Beyond that, though, I have few complaints. I'm able to exercise without a problem, I'm sleeping adequately, and while I feel giant, I'm still moving around at a good clip. Even though I've put on nearly 20 pounds, and even though I'm six months pregnant, few people seem to look at me and see that I'm expecting. I have one maternity dress that's gotten me a seat on BART a couple of times, but that's it. Even old friends, colleagues, etc., seem to think I'm just getting fatter. I certainly don't look the way I'd hoped at this stage, but given how the last two springs have begun, I'm beyond thrilled and exceedingly grateful to be beginning this part of 2008 with a well-established munchkin in my uterus. As long as I know it's in there, we're good.

Bumps

If you ever want to see how differently human bodies carry extra weight, watch an episode of The Biggest Loser. The incredibly brave contestants bare almost all to get weighed each week, and what you'll see as they disrobe is how differently a few dozen or hundred extra pounds sits on different people.

The secret of weight loss, of course, is that if you have carried extra pounds for a long time, your skin doesn't just magically turn back into the smooth 22-year-old body you were hoping for. Skin remembers. Combine its extended stay in an extended format with whatever extra pounds you didn't lose, and your slimmer figure will be distinctly, well, lumpy.

There are two reasons I haven't put a baby bump photo on this site. First, I'm way too self-conscious to show that, because second, my baby bump is distinctly unsatisfying. Almost 22 weeks into this pregnancy, I don't really look visibly pregnant unless I'm wearing precisely the right outfit. Instead, I just look fat(ter).

You see, I naturally have two bellies -- a bit of belly above my waist (which, it seems, is where the majority of the 12 lbs I've gained so far have taken up residence) and a bit below. Now both areas are noticeably bigger than they were pre-pregnancy, but I'd be much happier if I only had the one below my waist -- the baby bump I'm supposed to have. Instead, I'm watching my usually defined waist gradually disappear, and eventually my two bellies (one fat, one baby) will meet. And then, I'm sure, I'll look quite pregnant.

Last week, a co-worker who was late to the big news figured it out and tried to touch my belly, I nearly bit her head off. I'm self-conscious about not having the right baby bump. And why wouldn't I be? Everyone else is -- just pick up a celebrity magazine and look for its "Bump Watch" section. Half the time the photos they print aren't even of people who are pregnant; they just had the nerve to breathe when the photo was taken. Earth to photo editors: that's not an embryo; it's a pelvis!

We're still here

Apologies for not posting in a while; I've been traveling a bit and now have a nasty cold. (What's more fun that having a cold? Having a cold with round ligament pain and no drugs!)

The good news is that the munchkin is still around and now is kicking away -- I've been feeling it move for weeks, but yesterday my partner felt it for the first time. We had our 20-week fetal survey ultrasound on Friday, and everything looks good -- the doctor was happy with how the baby's heart, brain, spine, kidneys, bladder, stomach, and limbs looked. The kid is 9 inches long and weighs about 11 ounces.

I don't really look pregnant -- just fat(ter). (Even though I've gained 12 pounds and am wearing only maternity pants and mostly tops these days.) It's a little disappointing not to be showing at nearly 21 weeks, but I'll take what I can get. I'm excited about starting to show.

Next tasks:
- get room ready
- figure out what to register for (egads)
- hire a doula
- figure out daycare
- and a lot more than my virus-addled brain can't compute right now.

The sigh of relief heard 'round the world

That was me this morning, falling to my dining room floor in relief at the news that the amnio were normal.

I've been telling people at work today. After two years of trying, and two false starts, this is a day I never thought I'd see. And yet, here it is.

PHEW.

The waiting game

Is there any part of this process that doesn't involve long, expectant (ha) periods of time?

You wait to get your period to start birth control pills, you wait to start the injections, wait for daily phone calls announcing your estradiol numbers, wait for the call to do the trigger shot. Wait for the fertilization report, wait to pee on a stick, wait for your beta results.

But that's not all! Then there's the waiting for the seven-week viability check, waiting for the (cancelled) CVS, waiting for the end of the first trimester, waiting 45 minutes in a ridiculously small and windowless waiting room to see your OB, waiting to have the amniocentesis (at 16 weeks), and then, now, waiting for the results. And, provided all is well, of course then you wait to give birth and then, once the kid has finally arrived, wait for some kind of child-related disaster.

So far, everything with me is fine. Nausea is gone, headaches have subsided, lower back pain isn't as bad; I feel good. And our baby is still in there, it still has a heartbeat, it is measuring on-target. I may have felt it move. It has arms and legs, a bladder, a head, a spine, the whole megilla. The ultrasonographer at the amnio said all of the structures look good, and she listed several symptoms of Down Syndrome that she did not see in our baby. Then the perinatologist came along and, in what I presume was his standard, lawsuit-preventing answer to anxious gravids, said, well, 50 percent of Down Syndrome kids don't show any symptoms on an ultrasound.

Uh, fantastic.

So now we wait. Results take either 10 to 14 days or 7 to 10 days, depending on who you listen to. Today is day 5. As usual, I cannot wait. In some ways, this is the moment I've been waiting for the most, because while I've told several friends that I'm pregnant, almost no one in my close-knit office has any idea why I'm expanding. I've only told my immediate family. And I have waited for the moment when I actually get to tell people for so long. Here's hoping it actually happens.

Firsts

"Is this your first?"

That's the question people ask -- in the deli, in yoga classes -- when they find out you're pregnant. It's a question I can't quite bring myself to answer.

My first would be about a year old now. Maybe he'd be walking. (For some reason I feel it was a boy.)

My second and third -- identical twin boys -- would have been born this month.

My fourth stopped developing about five weeks ago, and its sibling -- my fifth -- still seems to be around, kenina hora.

Yesterday after my prenatal yoga class, I went to a crowded taqueria for lunch. A woman from my class sat down to share my table. In talking about our pregnancies, we discussed our past ones. I realized that for the third time in a month, I shared very personal information about my miscarriages with someone I barely know.

I have fought so hard to become a mom. In my life, I've dealt with major work difficulties, breakups, and family health crises. I fought to lose and keep off 75 pounds, and I trained myself to run half marathons. But nothing has been harder than trying to conceive. And nothing has been harder than staying on track after disappointment upon disappointment. So when a woman sits down at a restaurant to share chips and salsa with me, I can't just blithely pretend that this pregnancy came easily. Infertility and miscarriage are part of this narrative, and I don't feel the need to whitewash it. Moreover, I feel that to get me, and to get what this pregnancy means to me, you need the back story.

No, this isn't my first baby. It'll hopefully be my first child, but it isn't the first time a living being has taken up residence in my womb and in my heart.

It's alive!

It should come as no surprise to regular readers of this blog that I'm a little anxious about this pregnancy. Since passing all of the initial tests, I've graduated to a state of regular pregnant-ladyness. Which is great, except for the part about not seeing the doctor that often. How the hell am I supposed to go a whole month without knowing for sure if it's still kicking?

Well, I don't have to, thanks to the combined wonders of modern technology and the Internet. Yesterday the fetal doppler monitor I ordered came in the mail. For $46 a month, I can use this thing to find the baby's heartbeat and even see what it is on a digital readout.

I didn't really think it was dead; even though my nausea has mostly subsided and my fatigue has improved, I'm definitely getting bigger and hungrier. But with my second miscarriage, I had no miscarriage symptoms and the embryos were gone. So there's no guarantee that the absence of symptoms is good news.

But a display of munchkin's heartbeat -- it was in the 150s -- is a pretty good guarantee for now. Worth every penny.

Milestones

I definitely feel like I'm in a foreign country without a map. This whole 12-weeks-pregnant-and-everything-looks-good thing is completely foreign territory.

Today I am 12 weeks. 12 weeks! Never would have thunk it. Can't decide if this is the start of the second trimester -- even the medical books don't seem to agree. I'm going to be literal (for a change -- NOT) and decide that I'll be in my second trimester at 13 weeks 3 days (divide 40 weeks by 3, etc.).

Last night I received my last intramuscular progesterone shot -- something I'd been getting daily for more than two months. Thank God. My ass is going to be confused when it doesn't get stabbed every night.

At this point, I'm like a regular pregnant lady, going to see the doctor every four weeks. Which means I don't go back to the doctor until 2008. After being wanded every two weeks at a minimum, it's bizarre to go four without seeing an ultrasound machine.

My newest worry: figuring out when to tell people, mostly at work. I would like to wait until the amnio results come back, but that won't be until around January 23, when I'll be 18 weeks (kenina hora). I can't imagine I won't be showing by then, and while I am generous of belly even when not knocked up, I think by then it will be obvious that I've gone beyond eating too many Christmas cookies.

So the question becomes, to tell before the amnio results? That terrifies me. I believe that everything will be fine, but at the same time, I am having a hard time balancing my desire to tell people before it's completely obvious and my desire to keep it quiet until I know the test results are okay.

Feedback welcome!