Here We Go

On the eve of 2010, I sat in this exact spot with my love, anticipating the new year. We put a Mexican spin on the Spanish tradition of eating 12 grapes at midnight, each grape equaling a wish for each month of the new year. Well I had one wish for 2010, and I got it. But I guess I wasn't specific enough. The new-year-wish-upon-a-grape gods gave me a child like I asked, but didn't let me keep it. How naive of me.

One year later, happy to be leaving 2010 in the past, I realized that hoping 2011 will bring better luck, will be "my year", will find me with fewer fertility struggles and less heartache, is well, effin' ridiculous. Translation? I sure as hell wasn't popping grapes in my mouth making wishes.

So it's been awhile. Long story short, I got a parasite when I was in Mexico in March, and didn't find out until the very end of June. I had to take a powerful course of antibotics, and this coinsided with finally being ready to "try" again. The doc nixed that idea.

I cried out of frustration. But then it hit me; I was exhausted of talking/dealing/living infertility and loss. I needed a break, so I took one. No more blogging, no more visiting "Dr. Google", no more reading others' infertility stories, no more charting, no more taking my BBT every morning,no more "trying". I didn't know how I was going to do it, but I did. And it was exactly what I needed.

I worried about what September would bring, as that was when we talked about getting back on the baby bandwagon. We tried in September. We tried in October and November, too. Nothing. But, I worked my buns off staying positive and not letting a lack of 2 little pink lines freak me out.

At the end of November, I was missing my OBGYN, so we had a little visit. I ended up leaving his office that day with a perscription for Clomid. I was giddy, trying to suppress the aggravating "what ifs" that were trying to take over. December was going to be my month, I could feel it. But that didn't change the fact that because of my previous ectopic, I was now 10x more likely to have another ectopic, plus some more percentage points since Clomid increases the likelihood.

I had to try.

Now it's January 4 at 3:19am and I can't sleep because on Christmas day I took a pregnancy test. 2 lines folks. We made it over hurdle one. Breathe.

Unlike the first BFP, this BFP lacked the fanfare. Cyballs checked the stick, and gave me a pursed-lip smile and a thumbs up. I gasped (I already knew, but seeing those 2 lines makes it real), cupped my hand over my mouth and began to shake uncontrollably. This isn't good. This isn't bad. This...just is.

After dealing with infertility and losing a pregnancy, I'd be an effing idiot to be deliriously excited. Or even remotely (excited). Sure, I'm pregnant, but the bigger question is, 8 months from now will I be blessed to hold this new precious life in my arms?

And so begins my lesson on "what not to expect when you're expecting". (Okay, there isn't a lesson, because I have no idea what I'm doing).

Here's what I do know. The hardest thing I have ever, EVER done is stop myself from falling head-over-heals in love with this precious life I've longed for. EVER.

This baby conceived out of pure love can't exist. And yet, she does.

I'm reminded of this daily because of all the changes my body is experiencing. Frick, even when I manage to forget the symptoms of pregnancy by say, going out for Mexican, I'm shoved back into reality. "I'll have Habenaro Enchiladas, please. Oh sh**! Is the queso blanco on the beans pasturized?" And let's not forget that margaritas that teased from nearby tables! And on New Year's, while reading the menu at Icon, and thinking to myself, Mmmm halibut sounds yummy! Wait. Does halibut have low or high levels of mercury? Sigh.

As much as I detest it, I'm doing pretty well with the whole not having any expectations thingy. I have my moments, but that wall is well built, and I'm much more guarded this time around.

But...I have a sledgehammer close by, because I'm grasping at anything and everything in hopes that Wednesday's transvaginal ultrasound has the news we want to hear: "Yup, here she is! Your baby's securely tucked into your uterus."

I can't even imagine if she's not. Well actually I can, I've been worrying myself sick with what-ifs?. I analyze every twing, tingling, pull, pain and ache. And there's been many. I've had numerous panic attacks, bouts of hysteria and full on melt downs. I'm constantly checking and comparing symptoms of this pregnancy with my last. I'm afraid to leave the house, afraid to fall asleep, afraid to be by myself. I'm afraid. I can't lose another baby. I can't have another surgery. I just can't do this just 10 short months (to the day and date, I might add) later.

All in all, there's been pain on my left side. It's not constant or as sharp as my last pregnancy, but each day for the past 6, it's been there at some point in the day. For the most part, I'm not bloated like I was with my last pregnancy, and I'm not as dizzy either. The nausea has been pretty much the same, as has the tenderness of my breasts. I'm 4w6d today; during my last pregnancy, I was in the hospital for pain and bleeding at 5w0d, and had not had any of the pain and discomfort that I'm feeling with this one. It could go either way.