Tomorrow should be the 7 week mark of pregnancy. I only say should because I’m still expecting measurements of the little bean to be a bit behind at the appointment next week. I think I ovulated a week later than normal people ovulate. That’s just a complete guess based on a feeling, and I really have nothing to back it up.
I am so paranoid still, even though my instincts say everything is fine. My breasts don’t hurt today, and it freaked me out earlier. Actually, as I’m typing it, it is making me nervous all over again. I have had food cravings, food aversion, fatigue, and those weird little pains in my lower abdomen that I can only describe as stretching pains. All the same things that happened with Eva, except with her I was spotting. I wasn’t this nervous with her, and I was spotting! Talk about irrational fear.
All of my infertile friends that have managed to get pregnant all talk about a feeling of guilt because they got their miracle while so many others are still waiting. The guilt hasn’t hit for me yet, mostly I think because I keep having these moments of doubt and nervousness that make me realize I could be back in the trenches in the blink of an eye. I do, however, feel like I shouldn’t be posting these posts with an infertility tag, like I’m flaunting it in the face of those not on pins and needles with a positive, those still waiting for two pink lines. It is an odd place to be, because I still feel like that is where I belong, where my words belong, talking to those that have been where I have and where I am.
I read something on Facebook that made me think of my fight to get pregnant, my daughter Eva, my first marriage and divorce. It said something like everyone has been through something that has changed them in a way they can never go back to the person they once were. This resonated with me as I am being paranoid about my baby. I never would have been so worried about something going wrong if I hadn’t gone through 14 months of trying to get to this point. The flip side to that coin is so simple and so wonderful, though–I would not be this thankful, grateful, or happy about this pregnancy if I hadn’t been through such a journey.
I’m so thankful for this moment, this feeling as I would rather vomit than eat a brownie. I’m going to keep the positive thoughts flowing, and I’m going to spend many hours in prayer, I have no doubt. It doesn’t matter if the end result isn’t what I have in mind (a beautiful, healthy baby, preferably a girl, just throwing that out there, Lord), I am just ao grateful for right now. I feel hopeful again, for the first time in a long time, that anything is possible.