It feels like I've been absent from my little blog for quite some time now....the title of this post has two meanings - first the obvious, that what follows will be a bit of info on my life right now. The other, a little less obvious. Since I haven't much to share in the creating department recently, I decided it was time to share something in the life department...
Our culture seems to have this rule that you don't start telling people you're pregnant until you're out of your first trimester, and maybe starting to show. I'm not totally sure why this is...maybe that you want to make sure you're past the "iffy" first trimester where things can go wrong? You don't want to disappoint people with bad news. Or maybe that it's a bit scary to open yourself up to sharing if something does go wrong. I've gathered that this cultural rule exists by observation, and the way people assume that you're about ready to start waddling around when you first announce that you're expecting.
|new mama and baby clover|
The way I see it is that if I were to go through a perfect pregnancy or a tough one, I would rather go through it with the support of others. How would anyone know to give encouragement or share personal experience if they don't know? And worrying about disappointing others pales in comparison to the sadness felt by the parent.
|violet's first moments after our home birth|
All that to say..... that I'm due to have a baby in the end of July!
After two uneventful and mostly worry-free pregnancies, this one has been a trial so far, and this new life is what's kept me away from my blog and much creating lately.
Two Fridays ago, we found ourselves heading in to get an ultrasound. It was a day of sadness, because I thought we were going in to affirm that I was losing the pregnancy. That morning, I had a very painful, strange, and scary experience while making breakfast for the kids. A sudden jolt of pain and nausea struck me, and I immediately knew that something was happening inside of me.
I literally felt like death. It hurt to move - stabbing and shooting pain erupting through the "baby area" when I turned or bent. My energy was down to nothing. Horrible headache, and feverish chills. My stomach felt like it was full of jello, and I was too nauseous to eat anything. And I had started to bleed. I'd only found out I was pregnant a few days before Thanksgiving, and hadn't even gotten an appointment with my midwives yet.
My husband came home from work to be with me, and my midwife sent in an order for an ultrasound at a radiology center that was kind enough to fit me in even though there were no appointments available that day. Poor Clover was really concerned for me, and kept saying that mommy was sick. Violet gave me kisses and asked me to stop crying. Once we arrived for our appointment, we all waited in the room together for the ultrasound tech to come in and take a look at what had happened to me, preparing ourselves for the worst and hoping for the best.
|one of the few trips to the pool - I was VERY pregnant with Violet|
To our surprise and joy, we watched as they located the little flickering heartbeat. We listened to them describe what we were looking at, and that they could see nothing abnormal or concerning. A sigh of relief, and a thanks to God were uttered before we thanked the nurses and headed for home. But despite the joy of knowing that there was still life inside of me, I couldn't help but feel scared still because I had no idea what had happened to me, and what was wrong.
Over the next week, I continued to feel awful. Pain still plagued me, I was feeling pale and cold and nauseous, and the specific episode of extreme pain, watery tummy, chills, and bleeding happened several more times, once in the middle of decorating our Christmas tree with the kids. I spent the days struggling to care for my kids, to keep my spirits up, to keep some food down, and to keep the nagging fear away. The last episode I had was the most concerning to me, and I wondered if "it was finally happening".
But the day following the last episode, I began to feel significantly better. Food started to look appealing, and I had less pain and a burst of energy. I was torn between relief in feeling better, and worry that this meant something bad. My appointment with the midwives came the next day, and I described everything that had been happening. It still remained a mystery, but I was feeling loads better, and the midwife didn't think that I had experienced a miscarriage. I could either schedule another ultrasound to check things out, or just wait and trust until the next appointment when they could search for that little heartbeat with the doppler.
Since last Friday everything has been back to relative normal. I've been run down like you would expect in your first trimester (while chasing two crazy kids, still nursing a toddler, and not getting enough sleep). I'm able to do more than just lay around, huddled under a blanket all day. Some nausea and discomfort has remained, but nothing debilitating. And I'm starting to believe that things really are back to normal, that the baby and I are ok, and things will be fine going forward. I'm praying that there won't be a second round of all the craziness.
I'm thankful for a husband who has comforted me, prayed for me, pulled my slack, encouraged me, and kept watch over me.
Now it's time to attempt catching up with the life that kept moving without me. Messes to be cleaned, plans to be followed through with, leftovers to be tossed now because I couldn't eat them for lunch, routine to get back into, reading to be done, sleep to be had, chocolate to eat (I literally didn't even look at it for about a week and a half! whaaat?).
In other (happy! hooray!) news, somebody is up and walking again on her own two feet
And we had a great time picking out a Christmas tree on the farm two weekends ago. It was a gorgeous, foggy morning in a very pretty setting in Round Hill VA.