What MAY be Happening?
2 years ago
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pregnancy. Show all posts
10 July 2012
Birth and Delivery (Part III)
Okay, so I'm obviously a horrible, horrible blogger. On the plus side, I haven't failed as a parent (yet).
So where was I...Oh, yeah.
From the beginning and even after I got the the hospital, I was 'planning' on a natural birth. Not because I actually thought it was better or a greater experience, but because when it came to weighing my fear of needles against an unknown amount of pain. Needles lose. (Please note that just because I was 'planning' a natural birth meant in no way that I believed I would make it through with one. I figured one of two things would happen. A) I'd be so far along I'd have no choice but to go about it naturally. B) I'd give in to the epidural.)
Anyhow, I made it for quite some time (9cm, not that you care, but maybe) until the red patterns I initially waded through (I drew swirls in my mind or went through Kung Fu forms.) became a giant mass of red that swallowed me whole. I think the last straw for Fielding was when I climbed on the bed and he thought I was going to fall off. It was at that point in time that he broached me getting the epidural. And since I really wasn't inclined to giving birth naturally and the reality of the pain for now front and center, what was a little (big) needle in the long run?
The anesthesiologist came in and yes, spewed all of the legal/medical ramifications he was required to and asked me to sign the medical waiver. WHAT!?! That is really something I figured only happened in movies, but apparently it happens in real life too. Well...what do you know another contraction so I couldn't sign. I couldn't even imagine what my signature would look like on that piece of paper. So through the contraction I gave him (the doctor) permission to have Fielding sign for the epidural. From there (and let's face it from the beginning), the doctor was extremely efficient and got right to work.
He asked me to move to the edge of the bed. Which is tricky when you're big and round and twice as tricky when you are in the midst of labor. So He took matters into his own hands, figuratively and literally. He told me he was going to give me a giant hug and that is was okay because my husband was there. (I remember that because it made me laugh and still does.) He pulled me to the edge of the bed, cleaned my back, stuck a sticky strip on my back, and stuck the needle in. I'm sure that if I'd actually seen any of it it would have freaked the bejeebbers out of me, but I didn't so it was all good. Some people say it's blissful, but it was honestly one of the oddest sensations of my life. It wasn't that it was horrible, but it was just so unexplainably bizarre as to feel unpleasant. Bam! Done. I don't think I was yet in a place to actually pay any attention to what he was saying when he left.
In came the L&D nurse to check my progress and go over how the epidural works. A) The nurse was not very courteous in my opinion and it hurt when she checked me. I just wanted her to leave the room. I did learn one really interesting fact though when she went over how an epidural works. It's gravity based. That means if your right side hurts you should roll more to your right. If it is numb to far up sit up more. Does that make sense? Because of that knowledge, I knew how to move to get the most out of the epidural.
She came in about five or ten minutes later to check me again (since she'd hurt me the first time). 9cm and she said she'd call the doc for me to start pushing. I don't know how much time went by until my doc stopped in to check on my progress. (Time really has no relevance in the delivery room. I don't know that your mind would even know how to pay attention to it.) He had me push some and then left to check on other patients. I continued to push with the L&D nurse and Fielding. Deep breath, focus, push 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. This happened with every contraction (that you can't feel). You figure out a way to tell when you're having one. For me, I figured out that I could tell when my stomach was 'flexing' (contracting). I did that was a few times and she paged the doctor again. It was either during this time or when my doc was there that my thigh started to cramp up. So I lifted my leg to stretch it out and almost kicked Fielding in the head. (He was standing near my head. I remember the doc/nurse were pretty impressed that I could do that with the epidural.
The doc broke down the bed. Yes the lower part you'd been laying on comes completely off so they can efficiently deliver the baby and deal with all of the rest.
After that I gave birth. Okay, so it was more dramatic than that, but far less than what I would have expected. Not emotionally, but mostly different than what I had expected from everything I'd read.
THIS IS WHERE IT GETS DETAILED SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW STOP!
I read that even with an epidural you'd feel 'pressure' when the baby was crowning. Nope. Instead it was more like you could feel there was something there. ie if you held an egg in your hand. It's not pushing against you and you're not pushing against it. You can just feel it there. And you can definitely (or at least I could) feel when the doctor is assisting in creating space for the baby to get through. (Again not pain, just sensation.) I pushed a couple more time (or at least that's how I remember it) and she slid right out. I have no idea how all of that worked, but she cried for the first time and it just hits you. You just brought a child into the world. (I think I started to shake again after that, like after my water broke.)
The nurses then usher the spouse over to the baby so they don't have to see all of the cleanup. You pass the placenta which is just oozy and stitch you up if necessary. I mean let's face it. That part in and of itself probably made it worth it to have the epidural. I remember my doc taking care of everything and Fielding calling out that she was actually a cute baby. Not at all weird like some babies. (Again, I'm sure the nurses thought we were an odd couple.)
And since it's now been 4.5 months since I gave birth to her, I can't quite remember how the rest of it went. She stayed with me for a while and then went to the nursery while I rested and they got a room ready. I remember the nurse coming in with a wheelchair into the room and asking me if I would be okay getting into the chair or if I needed help. I told her I could walk to the room which surprised her.
From there it was all just history or more posts for the future. I mean it's not like she's really going anywhere and I'm sure there will certainly be more stories to tell.
24 May 2012
Checking in the Hospital (Part II)
Once again I should be sleeping, but there's no time like the present and it has already been far too long since the first post. So...
Mandi, being brilliant, had already called ahead to the hospital to find out what doc was on call and to ask a few other questions that I can't remember now. Anyhow, I was in luck because my doc was on call and thus already at the hospital.
So when we arrived at the hospital the only really weird stuff I had to endure was standing up to yet another gush of water. (Yes, amniotic fluid continues to be created and thus leak whenever you move. Once again making you feel like you've wet yourself in public.) Anyhow, since I'd followed all of the rules and preregistered we didn't have to worry about too much paperwork and quickly checked into L&D (labor and delivery).
I named three people on my pass list. (I was a no info patient which was different than I had expected or how it was explained. Next time I'm going under an alias.) I wasn't allowed to change those names while I was in the hospital.
And after that I went back for observation. Observation really isn't that exciting of a place. Especially when you're not having any contractions (or any that you're really aware of). I declined the checks and blood work until I'd spoken with my doctor. So they proceeded to hook me up to two separate contraction monitors and asked me some questions (which I no longer remember either). Fielding showed up about that time and I remember wondering if he was okay or if he was freaking out in his head. I also think the nurse had to think we were a bit crazy because of just how honestly we answered the questions. I swear there were a few contractions that occurred, but every time one was about to hit I ended up heading to the restroom. Oh, and they confirmed I was leaking amniotic fluid too.
Oddly enough we sat in observation for an hour when my doc finally showed up. (That is totally normal. They want to figure out if you really need to be admitted or not. He told me that the monitors hadn't registered any contractions and then checked my progress. No more progress than my appointment a week prior. So he advised me start pitocen and an epidural. Yeah...no. (I'm pretty sure this was the moment my doc wanted to tell me I was being difficult.)
I had told people I was going to opt for a natural delivery. Not because I thought it was a wonderful thing or anything like that. No. I'm terrified of needles and the thought of a needle in my back freaked me out. And yes, I also told people I thought it was STUPID of me to try natural when fabulous drugs were readily available. NOT because I think people who chose a natural birth are stupid, but more so because second to needles, I avoid pain as much as humanly possible.
Anyhow, he being a great doctor because I'm a slightly crazy patient pushed me to make some decisions. He told me that 80% of women who's water breaks don't start contractions on their own and have to be induced. He also told me how chances of infection increase the longer you wait too. So I had some decisions to make. I decided no pitocen and that I'd just wait it out a couple of hours to see how things went. I'm pretty sure I told him my uterus would win. After all, I'd beaten the odds thus far. -No morning sickness, no cravings, no issues at all. Just grew a healthy baby right on target. (God must know me pretty well.)
So I went back to a room and began the wait. Mandi, being brilliant again, knew my sister was still in the hospital. (Yes, the exact same hospital. She had delivered her son the day before.) She went and found her and had her come down to where I was to talk to me about what I needed to do. (Let's not hide it. It was to talk me INTO what I should be doing ie an IV at the very least.)
My sister had just gotten there when the nurse came in with a phlebotomist to draw some blood. -Please see part where I say I do not like needles. The nurse not knowing this tried to explain to me the why behind the draw. Hello, I do NOT care about the WHY. At this point in time I just want FIVE minutes to figure out what I want to do or figure out a way to deal with it. After some very short serious conversation, I decided to go with the IV. So the floor nurse (who oddly enough Kelli and I both knew from Middle School) came in to give me the IV. She was really efficient about it and walked me through what she was going to do to help me deal with it all. Yes, I cried and it was terrible (for me). I remember her telling me she was really proud of me and I told her that unfortunately I didn't care if she was proud of me or not. It didn't help. (Yeah, I know. Apparently I'm a pretty big jerk when I go to the hospital.) Kelli stuck around for a few minutes later and then headed back up to her room.
From there I honestly don't remember a whole lot. Contractions started going at some point in time and with EVERY SINGLE one of them I felt like I had to go to the restroom. So I'd get off the bed and wander to the bathroom. Cable/monitors in tow, though not hooked up then head back to the bed after. I don't know if every L&D room is like this, but I swear it was like a mini trek and with each contraction it just seemed so tedious. Needless to say contractions had started and they were going along just fine.
And since I've written a mini novel, rocked my child to sleep and need some sleep of my own, I'll have to write another part to this story. Who thought I'd have so much to say about it all? But at least you can think about the terrible things you can say to a doc the next time you go to the hospital. =)
TO BE CONTINUED....
Mandi, being brilliant, had already called ahead to the hospital to find out what doc was on call and to ask a few other questions that I can't remember now. Anyhow, I was in luck because my doc was on call and thus already at the hospital.
So when we arrived at the hospital the only really weird stuff I had to endure was standing up to yet another gush of water. (Yes, amniotic fluid continues to be created and thus leak whenever you move. Once again making you feel like you've wet yourself in public.) Anyhow, since I'd followed all of the rules and preregistered we didn't have to worry about too much paperwork and quickly checked into L&D (labor and delivery).
I named three people on my pass list. (I was a no info patient which was different than I had expected or how it was explained. Next time I'm going under an alias.) I wasn't allowed to change those names while I was in the hospital.
And after that I went back for observation. Observation really isn't that exciting of a place. Especially when you're not having any contractions (or any that you're really aware of). I declined the checks and blood work until I'd spoken with my doctor. So they proceeded to hook me up to two separate contraction monitors and asked me some questions (which I no longer remember either). Fielding showed up about that time and I remember wondering if he was okay or if he was freaking out in his head. I also think the nurse had to think we were a bit crazy because of just how honestly we answered the questions. I swear there were a few contractions that occurred, but every time one was about to hit I ended up heading to the restroom. Oh, and they confirmed I was leaking amniotic fluid too.
Oddly enough we sat in observation for an hour when my doc finally showed up. (That is totally normal. They want to figure out if you really need to be admitted or not. He told me that the monitors hadn't registered any contractions and then checked my progress. No more progress than my appointment a week prior. So he advised me start pitocen and an epidural. Yeah...no. (I'm pretty sure this was the moment my doc wanted to tell me I was being difficult.)
I had told people I was going to opt for a natural delivery. Not because I thought it was a wonderful thing or anything like that. No. I'm terrified of needles and the thought of a needle in my back freaked me out. And yes, I also told people I thought it was STUPID of me to try natural when fabulous drugs were readily available. NOT because I think people who chose a natural birth are stupid, but more so because second to needles, I avoid pain as much as humanly possible.
Anyhow, he being a great doctor because I'm a slightly crazy patient pushed me to make some decisions. He told me that 80% of women who's water breaks don't start contractions on their own and have to be induced. He also told me how chances of infection increase the longer you wait too. So I had some decisions to make. I decided no pitocen and that I'd just wait it out a couple of hours to see how things went. I'm pretty sure I told him my uterus would win. After all, I'd beaten the odds thus far. -No morning sickness, no cravings, no issues at all. Just grew a healthy baby right on target. (God must know me pretty well.)
So I went back to a room and began the wait. Mandi, being brilliant again, knew my sister was still in the hospital. (Yes, the exact same hospital. She had delivered her son the day before.) She went and found her and had her come down to where I was to talk to me about what I needed to do. (Let's not hide it. It was to talk me INTO what I should be doing ie an IV at the very least.)
My sister had just gotten there when the nurse came in with a phlebotomist to draw some blood. -Please see part where I say I do not like needles. The nurse not knowing this tried to explain to me the why behind the draw. Hello, I do NOT care about the WHY. At this point in time I just want FIVE minutes to figure out what I want to do or figure out a way to deal with it. After some very short serious conversation, I decided to go with the IV. So the floor nurse (who oddly enough Kelli and I both knew from Middle School) came in to give me the IV. She was really efficient about it and walked me through what she was going to do to help me deal with it all. Yes, I cried and it was terrible (for me). I remember her telling me she was really proud of me and I told her that unfortunately I didn't care if she was proud of me or not. It didn't help. (Yeah, I know. Apparently I'm a pretty big jerk when I go to the hospital.) Kelli stuck around for a few minutes later and then headed back up to her room.
From there I honestly don't remember a whole lot. Contractions started going at some point in time and with EVERY SINGLE one of them I felt like I had to go to the restroom. So I'd get off the bed and wander to the bathroom. Cable/monitors in tow, though not hooked up then head back to the bed after. I don't know if every L&D room is like this, but I swear it was like a mini trek and with each contraction it just seemed so tedious. Needless to say contractions had started and they were going along just fine.
And since I've written a mini novel, rocked my child to sleep and need some sleep of my own, I'll have to write another part to this story. Who thought I'd have so much to say about it all? But at least you can think about the terrible things you can say to a doc the next time you go to the hospital. =)
TO BE CONTINUED....
03 May 2012
How it all went down (Part I)
Okay, so I should probably be going to bed right now, but I'm tired of trying to figure out exactly when I'm going to write this all down. There is no convenient time anymore. Just now. (And now I need to figure out exactly where to start. The beginning? Which beginning? The day? The 'Event' where...hmm...)
Mandi called me a couple of hours before I was supposed to be done with work and asked me if I felt up to babysitting for her that night for a couple of hours. 'Yeah, why wouldn't I? I feel fine', was my reply. (And yes, I think I vaguely remember her telling me that she always ending up delivering on the day she felt 'fine'. But you'll have to ask her for her stories if you want those.)
Anyhow, I left work about 5p and headed over to her house. Got stuck in traffic and called her to see if she could pick me up some dinner from Chick-Fil-A. (I wasn't craving it, but it does taste pretty good. And I really like their lemonade so Mandi was nice enough to get me a large. =) ) I got there no issues and Mandi headed out the door to fill in for Bunko.
Ellie, Annie, and I were chilling quietly watching one of Ellie's favorite shows (Phineas & Ferb or Mickey Mouse Club). No issues. I don't think I'd been there more than an hour or so when Mandi's husband got home from his school class and Annie decided she was hungry.
Jason got her bottle ready and started to feed her. And since I didn't need to go home, we sat around talking about life. (Fielding was hanging out with Daniel and had just left to drive him back to his apartment in Provo.) I figured it was no big deal. We could talk until Mandi got home, I'd leave and make it home about the same time Fielding would be getting home. So Jason and I sat around chatting while he fed Annie and honestly I can't remember if Annie spit up or if she was just making a mess eating.
Anyhow, (sorry, you might see that word a couple times in this.) Jason asked me to grab a towel from under the sink. Okay...do, do, do (That's me walking to the sink.) I walked over to the sink. Opened the cupboard underneath and bent over to get a towel and WET MYSELF. I mean, I had had a LARGE lemonade to drink and hadn't gotten the chance to use the restroom yet since Mandi left. Utterly embarrassing.
Yes, my thoughts at this point in time were how can I play this off, get to a restroom, figure something out, and get out of there post haste. I thought it would be okay initially and maybe I could hide it, but as I started to stand up straighter the more I seemed to be leaking. WHAT!?!? Embarrassing. I've NEVER lost control of my bladder like this before and there seems to be no stopping it either. [Facepalm] This is either you really losing it or there just might be a logical explanation for this...YOUR WATER JUST BROKE!Yup...pretty sure that's what just happened what do I do now? Play it cool. (Yes, most of that happened in my head in under 10 seconds.)
So I calmly walked towards Jason handed him the towel and let him know I was going to use the restroom because I was pretty sure my water just broke. I think he may have been in a little bit of shock and asked 'nuh uh.' Yup. I'll be back. So I went upstairs really emptied my bladder and asked myself some questions. 1-doesn't smell like urine 2-can't seem to control it. Holy crap! I really think my water broke. What should I do now?
SIDENOTE: Amniotic fluid smells kind of sweet unlike urine. Secondly, most women go into labor first instead of having their water break. When it does break
most people say it doesn't gush. I felt like it gushed. It was insane!
So I headed back downstairs, confirmed once again that my water had broken and picked up the phone to call Fielding to see where he was at on the road.
"ring, ring...
ME: Hey, where you at? Oh, you're still down there? Can you pick me up from Mandi's on your way back?
HIM: Why? What's wrong with your car?
ME: Nothing. Just wondering if you can pick me up. (I didn't want him to freak out because of his PTSD or even just because he was going to need to drive through the crazy Provo construction.)
HIM: Okay, but I still don't get why you can't drive your car.
ME: Well,...I'm pregnant and my water just broke. (While the statement was blunt, I was perfectly calm about it.)
HIM: What!?! I've gotta go. I've gotta go...Click.
(I'm pretty sure he finished saying goodbye to Daniel pretty quick and started heading for Mandi's.
After all of this, Jason was nice enough to offer to pack the kids up and drive me to the hospital. I told him no and that I was fine. (Which I was. At that point in time, I wasn't having any contractions and I was only shaking a little bit from the shock of it all. And outside of feeling like a very soggy two year old, I felt fine.)
Next call, Mandi.+
"ring, ring...
ME: Hey, where you at? Oh, you're still down there? Can you pick me up from Mandi's on your way back?
HER: In my car. Why?
ME: Oh, I was just wondering when you'd be home.
HIM: I'm just heading into the neighborhood. Why?
ME: Well,...I'm pregnant and my water just broke. (It worked the first time. It was totally worth a repeat.)
Honestly I don't really remember all of the stuff that happened after that. So I'm going to make up my own version that I'm sure has a modicum of truth to it somewhere (either that and it's all lies my brain made up to make me feel better).
I'm pretty sure Mandi offered to drive me to the hospital or have Jason drive me. Both of which I said no too. It was nice, but I figured I still felt alright and hadn't had any contractions so it was no big deal.
She got back to the house and asked me how I was doing and I told her I was fine. She then asked me where Fielding was and I told her he was driving up from Provo and that he'd be there in a little bit. She then encouraged me to head to the hospital because she didn't want me having my baby on the living room floor. I said I'm sure I'll be fine and asked Ellie if she'd clean up the front room for me. She told me no. Mandi asked me if I wanted to sit down. (I'd been standing the whole time.) I told her no. I then told Ellie that I totally knew how she felt standing there with VERY soggy feeling underwear. After a little bit longer, Mandi made an executive decision. (Just one reason we're best friends.) She called Fielding to tell him we'd meet him at the hospital. Mandi was worried about my shaking and I'm sure a host of other things she didn't want to tell me. So we packed up two towels for me to sit on (No way was I going to ruin her new car.) and headed out.
She started down her normal route she took to get to work every day. Crap! I'm not hungry right now, but I want to get something to eat before getting to the hospital. (Some labor can take a LONG time and you can't eat anything once you get into the hospital.) So Mandi asked me what I wanted. I figured some kind of juice would be a good option. Maybe I could sneak it while the nurse wasn't in the room or something. We stopped at a gas station and I told her I wanted Troll Eggs too. (She was so nice to be so indulgent of the crazy person.) She got me a juice and then walked out with it without paying for it. (Don't worry, she told the cashier she'd be right back.) She wanted to know if I wanted the eggs or the worms. (See...she really did take care of my crazy self.) I told her the eggs and she went back in to the cashier and told him she had a prego lady in the car. He was really nice and asked when I was due. 'Oh, right now. We're actually heading to the hospital.' 'Oh, well good luck and congratulations.' (Again, I think something like this was said. I was in the car.) =)
After that, I was kind enough to let Mandi continue on to the hospital. (Still no contractions.) In fact, I felt more than okay, outside of feeling all soggy. We even just had normal conversation on the way to the hospital while I drank some of my juice. =)
TO BE CONTINUED.....-because I really need to go to bed and this really has turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated. Guess you'll have to wait for a part II. =)
Mandi called me a couple of hours before I was supposed to be done with work and asked me if I felt up to babysitting for her that night for a couple of hours. 'Yeah, why wouldn't I? I feel fine', was my reply. (And yes, I think I vaguely remember her telling me that she always ending up delivering on the day she felt 'fine'. But you'll have to ask her for her stories if you want those.)
Anyhow, I left work about 5p and headed over to her house. Got stuck in traffic and called her to see if she could pick me up some dinner from Chick-Fil-A. (I wasn't craving it, but it does taste pretty good. And I really like their lemonade so Mandi was nice enough to get me a large. =) ) I got there no issues and Mandi headed out the door to fill in for Bunko.
Ellie, Annie, and I were chilling quietly watching one of Ellie's favorite shows (Phineas & Ferb or Mickey Mouse Club). No issues. I don't think I'd been there more than an hour or so when Mandi's husband got home from his school class and Annie decided she was hungry.
Jason got her bottle ready and started to feed her. And since I didn't need to go home, we sat around talking about life. (Fielding was hanging out with Daniel and had just left to drive him back to his apartment in Provo.) I figured it was no big deal. We could talk until Mandi got home, I'd leave and make it home about the same time Fielding would be getting home. So Jason and I sat around chatting while he fed Annie and honestly I can't remember if Annie spit up or if she was just making a mess eating.
Anyhow, (sorry, you might see that word a couple times in this.) Jason asked me to grab a towel from under the sink. Okay...do, do, do (That's me walking to the sink.) I walked over to the sink. Opened the cupboard underneath and bent over to get a towel and WET MYSELF. I mean, I had had a LARGE lemonade to drink and hadn't gotten the chance to use the restroom yet since Mandi left. Utterly embarrassing.
Yes, my thoughts at this point in time were how can I play this off, get to a restroom, figure something out, and get out of there post haste. I thought it would be okay initially and maybe I could hide it, but as I started to stand up straighter the more I seemed to be leaking. WHAT!?!? Embarrassing. I've NEVER lost control of my bladder like this before and there seems to be no stopping it either. [Facepalm] This is either you really losing it or there just might be a logical explanation for this...YOUR WATER JUST BROKE!Yup...pretty sure that's what just happened what do I do now? Play it cool. (Yes, most of that happened in my head in under 10 seconds.)
So I calmly walked towards Jason handed him the towel and let him know I was going to use the restroom because I was pretty sure my water just broke. I think he may have been in a little bit of shock and asked 'nuh uh.' Yup. I'll be back. So I went upstairs really emptied my bladder and asked myself some questions. 1-doesn't smell like urine 2-can't seem to control it. Holy crap! I really think my water broke. What should I do now?
SIDENOTE: Amniotic fluid smells kind of sweet unlike urine. Secondly, most women go into labor first instead of having their water break. When it does break
most people say it doesn't gush. I felt like it gushed. It was insane!
So I headed back downstairs, confirmed once again that my water had broken and picked up the phone to call Fielding to see where he was at on the road.
"ring, ring...
ME: Hey, where you at? Oh, you're still down there? Can you pick me up from Mandi's on your way back?
HIM: Why? What's wrong with your car?
ME: Nothing. Just wondering if you can pick me up. (I didn't want him to freak out because of his PTSD or even just because he was going to need to drive through the crazy Provo construction.)
HIM: Okay, but I still don't get why you can't drive your car.
ME: Well,...I'm pregnant and my water just broke. (While the statement was blunt, I was perfectly calm about it.)
HIM: What!?! I've gotta go. I've gotta go...Click.
(I'm pretty sure he finished saying goodbye to Daniel pretty quick and started heading for Mandi's.
After all of this, Jason was nice enough to offer to pack the kids up and drive me to the hospital. I told him no and that I was fine. (Which I was. At that point in time, I wasn't having any contractions and I was only shaking a little bit from the shock of it all. And outside of feeling like a very soggy two year old, I felt fine.)
Next call, Mandi.+
"ring, ring...
ME: Hey, where you at? Oh, you're still down there? Can you pick me up from Mandi's on your way back?
HER: In my car. Why?
ME: Oh, I was just wondering when you'd be home.
HIM: I'm just heading into the neighborhood. Why?
ME: Well,...I'm pregnant and my water just broke. (It worked the first time. It was totally worth a repeat.)
Honestly I don't really remember all of the stuff that happened after that. So I'm going to make up my own version that I'm sure has a modicum of truth to it somewhere (either that and it's all lies my brain made up to make me feel better).
I'm pretty sure Mandi offered to drive me to the hospital or have Jason drive me. Both of which I said no too. It was nice, but I figured I still felt alright and hadn't had any contractions so it was no big deal.
She got back to the house and asked me how I was doing and I told her I was fine. She then asked me where Fielding was and I told her he was driving up from Provo and that he'd be there in a little bit. She then encouraged me to head to the hospital because she didn't want me having my baby on the living room floor. I said I'm sure I'll be fine and asked Ellie if she'd clean up the front room for me. She told me no. Mandi asked me if I wanted to sit down. (I'd been standing the whole time.) I told her no. I then told Ellie that I totally knew how she felt standing there with VERY soggy feeling underwear. After a little bit longer, Mandi made an executive decision. (Just one reason we're best friends.) She called Fielding to tell him we'd meet him at the hospital. Mandi was worried about my shaking and I'm sure a host of other things she didn't want to tell me. So we packed up two towels for me to sit on (No way was I going to ruin her new car.) and headed out.
She started down her normal route she took to get to work every day. Crap! I'm not hungry right now, but I want to get something to eat before getting to the hospital. (Some labor can take a LONG time and you can't eat anything once you get into the hospital.) So Mandi asked me what I wanted. I figured some kind of juice would be a good option. Maybe I could sneak it while the nurse wasn't in the room or something. We stopped at a gas station and I told her I wanted Troll Eggs too. (She was so nice to be so indulgent of the crazy person.) She got me a juice and then walked out with it without paying for it. (Don't worry, she told the cashier she'd be right back.) She wanted to know if I wanted the eggs or the worms. (See...she really did take care of my crazy self.) I told her the eggs and she went back in to the cashier and told him she had a prego lady in the car. He was really nice and asked when I was due. 'Oh, right now. We're actually heading to the hospital.' 'Oh, well good luck and congratulations.' (Again, I think something like this was said. I was in the car.) =)
After that, I was kind enough to let Mandi continue on to the hospital. (Still no contractions.) In fact, I felt more than okay, outside of feeling all soggy. We even just had normal conversation on the way to the hospital while I drank some of my juice. =)
TO BE CONTINUED.....-because I really need to go to bed and this really has turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated. Guess you'll have to wait for a part II. =)
28 March 2012
09 March 2012
9 weeks!?!
So I made it through the first trimester, the second trimester, and even most of the third before things really started to hit me. Most of it was due to meeting with my doctor. I'd go to my appointment. He'd check the baby's heart rate. Ask me if I had any questions and tell me to schedule another appointment in two weeks. Nice, normal routine. Way easier to ignore that at some point in the near future I'd be going through labor and directly following I'd have one of the largest responsibilities of my life handed to me.
I tell people all the time that Fielding and I started out with cats because people ask WAY fewer questions if you screw that up than a child. (No, this doesn't mean I'm a terribad kitty mom or that I'd ever truly advocate anything like that. Just in case someone thought that.) I mean let's face it a child is a HUGE responsibility. One too many teenyboppers jump into without realizing the impact it has on their life and decisions. Yes, it can be done and successfully at that, but that doesn't mean it's easy by any means (regardless of what age you become a mother).
Anyhow, back to the story at hand.
I went in to the doctor's office for a routine checkup. Just like normal. Nope. As Fielding and I are getting ready to leave the doctor tells me I've got 9 weeks left. 9 weeks!?!? What!?! That has got to be wrong. I haven't been pregnant nearly long enough. (Not that I was celebrating being unable to wear my normal clothes or tossing and turning each night.) Where in the world had the time gone? I was supposed to have 10 months (40 weeks) to prepare for this and I was NOT ready. So what do I do? I ignore it.
Yes, it's what I do with major stress in my life. Deal with it in little pieces or freak out. I think part of me was hoping it would all just be a blur that worked out, and for the most part it was. There were a few things that stuck out to me though as the last 9 weeks dwindled away.
B) Nope, no baby yet. If there was a baby or if I was in labor (contractions or water breaking) I HIGHLY doubt I'd be at work or pretty much anywhere other than home or a hospital.
C) Yup, still here. I'll be here until the baby decides to make an appearance and until that point in time I can still do everything I feel like doing. Shopping, movies, dinner, cards. All of that stuff.
Sadly, I was able to remain in this delusional place for about...5 more weeks. Once again my doctor ruined it for me. I went in for another routine appointment for him to check my progress and figured he'd just say to schedule another appointment one week out. (Yes, they increase in frequency the closer you get to your deliver date.) Nope. Instead he asks me how I'd like to have a baby this weekend. Um, NO!?! Outside of the fact that 'not ready, not ready' is running rampantly through my mind. I've still got at least two or three weeks left. First babies are notoriously late. AND the stats he'd given did NOT encourage me in the least that I'd be having a baby that quickly. Luckily, I got my appointment scheduled and didn't have a baby that weekend. Instead I got to wait a couple more weeks. (I think. My memory really is going.)
**I do have to state a bit of a disclaimer about my doctor. He was genuinely amazing and I'd recommend him to anyone regardless of the 'frightening' comments he made to me. He answered all of my questions and never made me feel like I was being stupid. He also gave me all kinds of suggestions and listened to what I wanted (even if it didn't turn out that way).
I tell people all the time that Fielding and I started out with cats because people ask WAY fewer questions if you screw that up than a child. (No, this doesn't mean I'm a terribad kitty mom or that I'd ever truly advocate anything like that. Just in case someone thought that.) I mean let's face it a child is a HUGE responsibility. One too many teenyboppers jump into without realizing the impact it has on their life and decisions. Yes, it can be done and successfully at that, but that doesn't mean it's easy by any means (regardless of what age you become a mother).
Anyhow, back to the story at hand.
I went in to the doctor's office for a routine checkup. Just like normal. Nope. As Fielding and I are getting ready to leave the doctor tells me I've got 9 weeks left. 9 weeks!?!? What!?! That has got to be wrong. I haven't been pregnant nearly long enough. (Not that I was celebrating being unable to wear my normal clothes or tossing and turning each night.) Where in the world had the time gone? I was supposed to have 10 months (40 weeks) to prepare for this and I was NOT ready. So what do I do? I ignore it.
Yes, it's what I do with major stress in my life. Deal with it in little pieces or freak out. I think part of me was hoping it would all just be a blur that worked out, and for the most part it was. There were a few things that stuck out to me though as the last 9 weeks dwindled away.
- My ankles and hands finally really started swelling. *sigh* I wore hiking shoes pretty much the remainder of my pregnancy. I can't believe my love of shoes was conquered by swollen ankles. (Oh, and I took my rings off before they had to be cut off.)
- EVERYONE seems to ask you how long you've got left. The closer you get to your due date the more details they seem to want. Any progress? Any baby yet? You're still here?
B) Nope, no baby yet. If there was a baby or if I was in labor (contractions or water breaking) I HIGHLY doubt I'd be at work or pretty much anywhere other than home or a hospital.
C) Yup, still here. I'll be here until the baby decides to make an appearance and until that point in time I can still do everything I feel like doing. Shopping, movies, dinner, cards. All of that stuff.
- My mind. My poor mind really started to go during the last month of my pregnancy. I could remember SAT words, but couldn't remember the generic layman term. Yes, it made me feel like a bigger dork because of that.
- The last thing I really remember about my pregnancy was that I still thought it would take longer. There seemed to be (and there was) a million things I (and Fielding) hadn't yet done around the house. (Her room was still a mess and needed to be organized.) I was trying to figure out when to bless her.
Sadly, I was able to remain in this delusional place for about...5 more weeks. Once again my doctor ruined it for me. I went in for another routine appointment for him to check my progress and figured he'd just say to schedule another appointment one week out. (Yes, they increase in frequency the closer you get to your deliver date.) Nope. Instead he asks me how I'd like to have a baby this weekend. Um, NO!?! Outside of the fact that 'not ready, not ready' is running rampantly through my mind. I've still got at least two or three weeks left. First babies are notoriously late. AND the stats he'd given did NOT encourage me in the least that I'd be having a baby that quickly. Luckily, I got my appointment scheduled and didn't have a baby that weekend. Instead I got to wait a couple more weeks. (I think. My memory really is going.)
**I do have to state a bit of a disclaimer about my doctor. He was genuinely amazing and I'd recommend him to anyone regardless of the 'frightening' comments he made to me. He answered all of my questions and never made me feel like I was being stupid. He also gave me all kinds of suggestions and listened to what I wanted (even if it didn't turn out that way).
24 January 2012
Lumpy Bumps
Okay, so I think these are honestly the only real pics I have during my pregnancy other than ultrasound pics. Is that bad? Anyhow, here you go.
Kelli had this idea that we should surround ourselves with a lot of food.Ummm...I don't know that it worked really well. We kept eating it.
The brownies and gummy bears were tasty.
There was a whole in my shirt and they wanted me to try to eat the gummy bear.I almost made it.
My sister wasn't nearly as flexible as me.(Even if I did have to hold onto the high chair to NOT fall over.)
Trying to get some shots for our babyshower invites was tricky.(We're never really serious when we're together.)
My sister Kelli and I decided to have some fun with pics.
We're both about...31 weeks. She's measuring 4 weeks ahead of me.
She likes 'em chunky.
I'm pretty sure I was 3 weeks along in this pic. 05 December 2011
Shapely Shapes
This was the hardest part of the overall pregnancy for me. I mean I've never been super skinny, but I've never been stressed about my physical appearance either. (Don't ask me how I made it through high school without that complex, but I did.) I do like my clothes though and am pretty picky about the style of clothing I wear.
Unfortunately, that style isn't really conducive to being pregnant. I like tailored clothing and had invested a decent amount of money (at least to me) in my clothes. I was lucky that most of my clothes fit until I was about five or six months along. That didn't mean they were going to fit forever though.
I looked at Target a couple of different times, but just couldn't bring myself to pay the price they wanted for a SINGLE pair of pregnancy pants. My sisters and some of my friends lent me some maternity clothes in the meantime. Some of them worked. Some of them didn't. That didn't stop me from getting depressed and irritated that I couldn't seem to find any clothes that didn't make me feel like I was wearing a circus tent.
By the end of five or six months, the clothes that kind of fit didn't fit and I was starting to get really upset. I wanted to feel as good inside as I did when I wore my OTHER clothes. I gave up though and started to embrace some spandex. Yes, leggings. I didn't feel very professional in them, but they did seem to work in the meantime.
Fielding was nice enough to put up with me and my constant desire to find some clothes. He was also nice enough to buy me them when I found ones I FINALLY liked. I found 3 pairs of work pants (that looked tailored) and some dress/tunic tops that I could pair with them. Between my new clothes and the ones others lent to me, I'm hoping to make it through the end of the pregnancy.
And yes, while I still have those days where I feel like a 'Hefty Hippo' or 'cow'. (Yes, I've used those terms.) Fielding is sure to point out to me that I'm none of those things. I'm pregnant and I look gorgeous. (See, I knew I married a smart and loving man.) I've also figured out a way to feel pregnant and stylish in the clothes I got. I don't care what shape I am. I just want to be happy with myself and how I look.
Unfortunately, that style isn't really conducive to being pregnant. I like tailored clothing and had invested a decent amount of money (at least to me) in my clothes. I was lucky that most of my clothes fit until I was about five or six months along. That didn't mean they were going to fit forever though.
I looked at Target a couple of different times, but just couldn't bring myself to pay the price they wanted for a SINGLE pair of pregnancy pants. My sisters and some of my friends lent me some maternity clothes in the meantime. Some of them worked. Some of them didn't. That didn't stop me from getting depressed and irritated that I couldn't seem to find any clothes that didn't make me feel like I was wearing a circus tent.
By the end of five or six months, the clothes that kind of fit didn't fit and I was starting to get really upset. I wanted to feel as good inside as I did when I wore my OTHER clothes. I gave up though and started to embrace some spandex. Yes, leggings. I didn't feel very professional in them, but they did seem to work in the meantime.
Fielding was nice enough to put up with me and my constant desire to find some clothes. He was also nice enough to buy me them when I found ones I FINALLY liked. I found 3 pairs of work pants (that looked tailored) and some dress/tunic tops that I could pair with them. Between my new clothes and the ones others lent to me, I'm hoping to make it through the end of the pregnancy.
And yes, while I still have those days where I feel like a 'Hefty Hippo' or 'cow'. (Yes, I've used those terms.) Fielding is sure to point out to me that I'm none of those things. I'm pregnant and I look gorgeous. (See, I knew I married a smart and loving man.) I've also figured out a way to feel pregnant and stylish in the clothes I got. I don't care what shape I am. I just want to be happy with myself and how I look.
26 November 2011
I'm pregnant?
So immediately after the pregnancy test was positive (and I'd taken a second one just to be sure three days later), I called the doctor's office to set up an appointment.
Originally I had to argue with the receptionist and nurse manager to switch my doctor from one to another. Apparently they had a policy against switching patient's doctors within the same practice. This made me cranky because if I had known that I would have figured out a way to see the doctor I wanted in the first place. Oy! I do have to say that my original doctor was great, but didn't seem to have the approach I needed to my fear of needles. (Yes, it seriously does give me anxiety. I start to feel a tightness in my chest and cry at the mention of having to get a shot, blood draw, or anything else that might include needles.) My doctors were nice enough to sign off on the switch. (Thank goodness.) So I set my appointment for the earliest date...over a month out.
Yeah, it took over a month to get in to see the doctor and you pretty much countdown every second, every day, every week. And please don't take this wrong, but it seemed...worse for me. I know statistically speaking there are very few women who don't have symptoms of pregnancy. I am one of those people (at least for this pregnancy). No nausea, no feeling light headed, no cravings, no running to the restroom more frequently than normal. (See, I told you I'm not normal.) Most people would envy this, but when you're sitting around counting down waiting for an educated confirmation it can be maddening. (Yes, I questioned the authority of the stupid digital readout and the two lines. I mean honestly, how smart can they be right?)
About So about a month and a half later I went in to see the doctor for the first time. You fill out all the new patient paperwork, the insurance information , and finally get checked in by the nurse. You go into a room with a ultra sound machine and wait. You wonder what is taking the doctor so long. You wonder how everything is going to go. If the baby is real, healthy, or how you're going to react. You wonder how your spouse is going to react. (And yes, you're hoping and praying that things work out in a way that will work for you whether it's one or more.)
Finally, the doctor shows up and asks you how things are going. And since it's me, I answer all the questions, don't really know what to expect, and don't really have any other questions. I figured the doctor would do all the talking and explaining if it was necessary. (And yes, you're still freaking out the whole time wondering how it's all going to go.) Finally, he asks you if you're ready to see your baby and part of you is like 'yes, I've been waiting over a month to know for sure'. The other part of you is like 'no, I'm liking staying in the dark because I don't have to freak out quite yet'. The next thing you know there's a blob on the screen and all you can think (or say out loud to the doctor who just met you for the first time is) 'Holy shit!' Yeah, that is pretty much what blurted out of my mouth. That's not including the tears that start streaming from your eyes because it's real. In that moment you start to realize you really are pregnant. You're pregnant with a tiny human that looks an awful lot like all of the pictures you see of babies. (And yes, at the same time they still look like inkblot pictures too.)
After that, it's pretty anticlimactic. All of my sisters had limited pregnancy issues and I'm not one to stress about it. I figure that regardless of what I do or how I feel things are going to be however they're going to be. So I didn't have any questions for the doctor.
Oh wait. I'd accidentally told Fielding about how pregnant women should avoid lunch meat. He hadn't let me eat a real sandwich in over a month. I WANTED A FREAKING SANDWICH. Not due to any kind of pregnancy craving, but because I LOVE sandwiches. (Honestly, I think I'd eat a sandwich daily.) THAT was the only immediate concern I had. My doctor said it was okay and that was pretty much my next stop.
So I guess at the end of the day I didn't feel pregnant, but I was. Doctor confirmed and everything. Now all I had to do was hold out until at least the end of the first trimester. That was one thing I was paranoid about. I didn't want to put it out there only to have something...happen. All I had to do now was make it another month or two.
Originally I had to argue with the receptionist and nurse manager to switch my doctor from one to another. Apparently they had a policy against switching patient's doctors within the same practice. This made me cranky because if I had known that I would have figured out a way to see the doctor I wanted in the first place. Oy! I do have to say that my original doctor was great, but didn't seem to have the approach I needed to my fear of needles. (Yes, it seriously does give me anxiety. I start to feel a tightness in my chest and cry at the mention of having to get a shot, blood draw, or anything else that might include needles.) My doctors were nice enough to sign off on the switch. (Thank goodness.) So I set my appointment for the earliest date...over a month out.
Yeah, it took over a month to get in to see the doctor and you pretty much countdown every second, every day, every week. And please don't take this wrong, but it seemed...worse for me. I know statistically speaking there are very few women who don't have symptoms of pregnancy. I am one of those people (at least for this pregnancy). No nausea, no feeling light headed, no cravings, no running to the restroom more frequently than normal. (See, I told you I'm not normal.) Most people would envy this, but when you're sitting around counting down waiting for an educated confirmation it can be maddening. (Yes, I questioned the authority of the stupid digital readout and the two lines. I mean honestly, how smart can they be right?)
About So about a month and a half later I went in to see the doctor for the first time. You fill out all the new patient paperwork, the insurance information , and finally get checked in by the nurse. You go into a room with a ultra sound machine and wait. You wonder what is taking the doctor so long. You wonder how everything is going to go. If the baby is real, healthy, or how you're going to react. You wonder how your spouse is going to react. (And yes, you're hoping and praying that things work out in a way that will work for you whether it's one or more.)
Finally, the doctor shows up and asks you how things are going. And since it's me, I answer all the questions, don't really know what to expect, and don't really have any other questions. I figured the doctor would do all the talking and explaining if it was necessary. (And yes, you're still freaking out the whole time wondering how it's all going to go.) Finally, he asks you if you're ready to see your baby and part of you is like 'yes, I've been waiting over a month to know for sure'. The other part of you is like 'no, I'm liking staying in the dark because I don't have to freak out quite yet'. The next thing you know there's a blob on the screen and all you can think (or say out loud to the doctor who just met you for the first time is) 'Holy shit!' Yeah, that is pretty much what blurted out of my mouth. That's not including the tears that start streaming from your eyes because it's real. In that moment you start to realize you really are pregnant. You're pregnant with a tiny human that looks an awful lot like all of the pictures you see of babies. (And yes, at the same time they still look like inkblot pictures too.)
After that, it's pretty anticlimactic. All of my sisters had limited pregnancy issues and I'm not one to stress about it. I figure that regardless of what I do or how I feel things are going to be however they're going to be. So I didn't have any questions for the doctor.
Oh wait. I'd accidentally told Fielding about how pregnant women should avoid lunch meat. He hadn't let me eat a real sandwich in over a month. I WANTED A FREAKING SANDWICH. Not due to any kind of pregnancy craving, but because I LOVE sandwiches. (Honestly, I think I'd eat a sandwich daily.) THAT was the only immediate concern I had. My doctor said it was okay and that was pretty much my next stop.
So I guess at the end of the day I didn't feel pregnant, but I was. Doctor confirmed and everything. Now all I had to do was hold out until at least the end of the first trimester. That was one thing I was paranoid about. I didn't want to put it out there only to have something...happen. All I had to do now was make it another month or two.
21 November 2011
It's All in the Telling
hmmm....part of me isn't sure what to write, post, or even the order in which to approach this all. I guess I'll start with a warning. (Isn't that how all instructional writings or infomercials start?)
**I am NOT a normal girl and I am NOT a normal pregnant girl either. I have not spent my life dreaming about what it would be like to be a mother, to have children, or even really to be married. I absolutely DETEST the color pink. (Mauve surprisingly doesn't count.) And while I like frilly things because they look pretty that only lasts about 15 minutes before I'd trade it all in to be comfortable. So if you're reading this, please remember that I am not a normal girl and I don't see pregnancy the same way most people do. If you take offense please realize that that is becuase YOU are different from me (which is perfectly alright too).
I've always said that I would NEVER have (give birth) to a kid/baby since I can remember. I figured I'd grow up, go to college, get a degree and then go on to law school. If things worked out (which I doubted), I'd get married about 25 and adopt kids after I was 30 since being married at least 5 years ensured the best outcome for marriage (at least that's what some article I once read said).
Things didn't work out quite that way though. I went to Weber for a couple of years and then moved back home to attend SLCC where I met Fielding. I conviced him to FINALLY talk to me in our TaeKwondo class and to take KungFu the next semester. We started hanging out with my KungFu friends, then started dating, then decided to get married. (Sorry, I feel like it has to be a bit rushed or I won't get the story written before the kid gets here.)
And yes, I genuinely mean we decided to get married. (Again please note that I'm not the norm.) There was no super precious proposal on bended knee, no fancy dinner, or big family surprise. That's just not really either of our styles. We just talked about it. And while our proposal will never be the thing of legends or fairy tales, it's still precious to me. (Fielding told me that I wasn't the kind of girl he had ever imagined marrying, but that I was exactly what what he wanted. See...precious.)
Fielding and I were married for about 2.5 years before he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It was Hell. Fielding and I both began to withdraw from one another and from our relationship. We couldn't seem to communicate without getting frustrated or angry. Every day was pretty freaking miserable and I kept telling him that neither of us should be this miserable for the rest of our lives. If it couldn't get better than we should just get a divorce. (Divorce is ALWAYS an option and sometimes is the best option. Marriage is another option, but it requires understanding and sacrifice ALWAYS.) Fielding and I stayed in that...limbo for about another 2 years before he decided it wouldn't get better and that that wasn't fair to either of us. He asked me for a divorce and moved out.
Now, in a number of marriages (especially Utah), Fielding and I would have had a child or two already by this point in our lives. And honestly, I'm grateful every day that we didn't. Fielding and I know that if we had had any kids we would not still be together. Timing is everything and it's up to each person to determine when they're ready to pursue adding kids to the mix.
Fielding and I talked about three days after he moved out to figure out what we really wanted to do. Surprisingly, we both had made a list of things we wanted to change in our relationship. I also attended some of his counseling sessions to help make sure I knew where he was and he knew how I was feeling. And yes, surprisingly we made it through. It wasn't the greatest experience we've ever had. We wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but it definitely helped make our relationship better.
Unfortunately, life was moving forward for us and I was getting...feelings about having kids. (I'm not one who really believes in a 'biological clock' and part of me still thinks it's due to others I know with kids.) I kept getting the feeling that it was time to have kids. Biological kids in the next 2 to 3 years or adopting within the next 5 years. And while some discussions take only minutes to decide, Fielding and I discussed this a number of times before we were okay with it. Fielding refused to have a 'winter baby' (November to January, I think) because he doesn't like the cold. And to give us some time and just becuase I thought it would be funny, I told him we should try to have a Leap Year Baby. (My sister and I use to tell people we were twins who were born on Leap Day visiting from Canada.) So yeah, we moved on with our plans (even though I was also looking for a new job.)
Everyone told me you can't really 'plan' when you'll get pregnant, but I refused to listen anyhow. I figured it would either work or it wouldn't. (I mean how else would it work.) It was really odd to me that we were 'trying' and I figured it wasn't really that big of a deal, but when it didn't work it was...upsetting. I was upset and frustrated that two seemingly healthy people couldn't get pregnant. (Yes, I realize there are others who are devastated things haven't worked out and for that reason my issues are a lot more trivial.) I figured that it just wasn't meant to be right now and maybe one of those reasons was my job.
My job was getting more...stressful for me. (Which stress apparently plays NO part whatsoever on fertility according to a recent article I read.) I dreaded going to work pretty much daily and was hoping to find something new sooner rather than later. Fielding and I discussed this too and decided that we'd put things on hold until I got a new job and FMLA benefits would be applicable (12 monthes after being hired). I got a job offer on Friday, 17 June and had already accepted that this month wouldn't be the month either.
Part of my hiring requirements required me to have or get current immunizations and pass a drug screening test. (I seriously am afraid of needles and/or shots.) I took my drug test on Friday, but was able to postpone the immunizations because I was sick. No prego symtoms, just sick.
That Sunday (oddly enough, Father's Day) I took what I thought would be my final pregnancy test, at least until we decided to try again. Next thing I know I'm literally tilting my head to the side because the digital display isn't working right. The 'not' part of the display isn't showing up. It's got to be wrong because I don't feel pregnant. Secondly, I don't even know what I thought at that very second about being pregnant except that I'm not supposed to be. Fielding and I had decided to put things on hold for a while. What am I suppose to do now?
Well, I couldn't very well lie to Fielding. (He would have figured it out once I started getting fat. Outside of the fact that that would also be really sad and wrong.) So I went out and told him. And just like his proposal, it was pretty blunt and to the point. It says I'm pregnant. I think he looked at me for a couple of seconds before saying 'High five?'. So yeah, I cried and gave him a hug and said how do you honestly feel about it? (I mean honestly who asks for a high five from their wife when she tell you she's pregnant? Fielding. That's who.) He said he was excited and scared all at once. (Yeah, you can repeat that one again.)
**I am NOT a normal girl and I am NOT a normal pregnant girl either. I have not spent my life dreaming about what it would be like to be a mother, to have children, or even really to be married. I absolutely DETEST the color pink. (Mauve surprisingly doesn't count.) And while I like frilly things because they look pretty that only lasts about 15 minutes before I'd trade it all in to be comfortable. So if you're reading this, please remember that I am not a normal girl and I don't see pregnancy the same way most people do. If you take offense please realize that that is becuase YOU are different from me (which is perfectly alright too).
I've always said that I would NEVER have (give birth) to a kid/baby since I can remember. I figured I'd grow up, go to college, get a degree and then go on to law school. If things worked out (which I doubted), I'd get married about 25 and adopt kids after I was 30 since being married at least 5 years ensured the best outcome for marriage (at least that's what some article I once read said).
Things didn't work out quite that way though. I went to Weber for a couple of years and then moved back home to attend SLCC where I met Fielding. I conviced him to FINALLY talk to me in our TaeKwondo class and to take KungFu the next semester. We started hanging out with my KungFu friends, then started dating, then decided to get married. (Sorry, I feel like it has to be a bit rushed or I won't get the story written before the kid gets here.)
And yes, I genuinely mean we decided to get married. (Again please note that I'm not the norm.) There was no super precious proposal on bended knee, no fancy dinner, or big family surprise. That's just not really either of our styles. We just talked about it. And while our proposal will never be the thing of legends or fairy tales, it's still precious to me. (Fielding told me that I wasn't the kind of girl he had ever imagined marrying, but that I was exactly what what he wanted. See...precious.)
Fielding and I were married for about 2.5 years before he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It was Hell. Fielding and I both began to withdraw from one another and from our relationship. We couldn't seem to communicate without getting frustrated or angry. Every day was pretty freaking miserable and I kept telling him that neither of us should be this miserable for the rest of our lives. If it couldn't get better than we should just get a divorce. (Divorce is ALWAYS an option and sometimes is the best option. Marriage is another option, but it requires understanding and sacrifice ALWAYS.) Fielding and I stayed in that...limbo for about another 2 years before he decided it wouldn't get better and that that wasn't fair to either of us. He asked me for a divorce and moved out.
Now, in a number of marriages (especially Utah), Fielding and I would have had a child or two already by this point in our lives. And honestly, I'm grateful every day that we didn't. Fielding and I know that if we had had any kids we would not still be together. Timing is everything and it's up to each person to determine when they're ready to pursue adding kids to the mix.
Fielding and I talked about three days after he moved out to figure out what we really wanted to do. Surprisingly, we both had made a list of things we wanted to change in our relationship. I also attended some of his counseling sessions to help make sure I knew where he was and he knew how I was feeling. And yes, surprisingly we made it through. It wasn't the greatest experience we've ever had. We wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but it definitely helped make our relationship better.
Unfortunately, life was moving forward for us and I was getting...feelings about having kids. (I'm not one who really believes in a 'biological clock' and part of me still thinks it's due to others I know with kids.) I kept getting the feeling that it was time to have kids. Biological kids in the next 2 to 3 years or adopting within the next 5 years. And while some discussions take only minutes to decide, Fielding and I discussed this a number of times before we were okay with it. Fielding refused to have a 'winter baby' (November to January, I think) because he doesn't like the cold. And to give us some time and just becuase I thought it would be funny, I told him we should try to have a Leap Year Baby. (My sister and I use to tell people we were twins who were born on Leap Day visiting from Canada.) So yeah, we moved on with our plans (even though I was also looking for a new job.)
Everyone told me you can't really 'plan' when you'll get pregnant, but I refused to listen anyhow. I figured it would either work or it wouldn't. (I mean how else would it work.) It was really odd to me that we were 'trying' and I figured it wasn't really that big of a deal, but when it didn't work it was...upsetting. I was upset and frustrated that two seemingly healthy people couldn't get pregnant. (Yes, I realize there are others who are devastated things haven't worked out and for that reason my issues are a lot more trivial.) I figured that it just wasn't meant to be right now and maybe one of those reasons was my job.
My job was getting more...stressful for me. (Which stress apparently plays NO part whatsoever on fertility according to a recent article I read.) I dreaded going to work pretty much daily and was hoping to find something new sooner rather than later. Fielding and I discussed this too and decided that we'd put things on hold until I got a new job and FMLA benefits would be applicable (12 monthes after being hired). I got a job offer on Friday, 17 June and had already accepted that this month wouldn't be the month either.
Part of my hiring requirements required me to have or get current immunizations and pass a drug screening test. (I seriously am afraid of needles and/or shots.) I took my drug test on Friday, but was able to postpone the immunizations because I was sick. No prego symtoms, just sick.
That Sunday (oddly enough, Father's Day) I took what I thought would be my final pregnancy test, at least until we decided to try again. Next thing I know I'm literally tilting my head to the side because the digital display isn't working right. The 'not' part of the display isn't showing up. It's got to be wrong because I don't feel pregnant. Secondly, I don't even know what I thought at that very second about being pregnant except that I'm not supposed to be. Fielding and I had decided to put things on hold for a while. What am I suppose to do now?
Well, I couldn't very well lie to Fielding. (He would have figured it out once I started getting fat. Outside of the fact that that would also be really sad and wrong.) So I went out and told him. And just like his proposal, it was pretty blunt and to the point. It says I'm pregnant. I think he looked at me for a couple of seconds before saying 'High five?'. So yeah, I cried and gave him a hug and said how do you honestly feel about it? (I mean honestly who asks for a high five from their wife when she tell you she's pregnant? Fielding. That's who.) He said he was excited and scared all at once. (Yeah, you can repeat that one again.)
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