Bye-Bye First Trimester

Well, I can't tell you the number of times I prayed that I would get to this point in my pregnancy, the end of the first critical 12 weeks.  I had visions of this grand post with all of this happiness and bliss, and I also had these visions of waking up on the 1st day of the 12th week and feeling miraculously like my old self again.  Instead, I'm sitting here now 13 weeks and two days, still haven't written the post and still feel pretty tragic.

The first trimester of this pregnancy was absolute hell on me physically and emotionally.  And in true "looking for the light at the end of the tunnel fashion", I thought after that 12 week ultrasound that all my cares would drift away emotionally, and that physically I would start to feel better.  Neither happened.  Not even close.

My 12 week appointment went very well.  The baby looked fantastic, and was very active.  It measured a week bigger than a typical baby of this gestational age (long and skinny),  and everything was perfect.  I honestly breathed a HUGE sigh of relief.  I had convinced myself that I was going to go in and there would be no heartbeat and a subsequent bad ending.  I also had my first series of genetic testing during this appointment.  A new ultrasound test measures the Nuchal Translucency (fluid between the skin and the back of the babies neck) and coupled with a blood test is able to pinpoint upwards to 90% of chromosome abnormalities.  Because of my "Advanced Maternal Age", the test was important to the doctors.  Me?  Not so much.  If I have a child with a chromosome abnormality it will make zero difference to me at all.  Honestly.  But I do want to know ahead of time if such an issue exists so I can ensure the baby receives the very best of care from the point of diagnosis moving forward.  The ultrasound went well, and the Nuchal Translucency was so small it was barely readable on the ultrasound.  Good news.  I will have a high risk ultrasound at the 20th week to look for other soft-markers for genetic abnormalities, but I am not worried about it.  

So why did I leave the doctor's office feeling so blue?  Did I expect too much regarding my physical health on the first day of the magical 12th week?  Probably.  I also didn't have that emotional sense of well-being I was hoping to have.  Instead, I had a "12 weeks down, 28 to go" mentality, which really didn't make me feel a whole lot better.  I realized that although I had reached a very critical milestone, I still have a long way to go, and at my age all sorts of bad things can happen.  The risk of miscarriage dramatically drops once you reach the 12th week, UNLESS you have other risk factors.  Advanced Maternal Age is one of them.  So, here I sit, still on pins and needles with the realization that this feeling is probably going to stick with me the entire 40 weeks, if I'm blessed to make it that far. 

Ultrasound pictures are awesome.  I can't imagine how women made it through pregnancies back in the good old days without ultrasounds to give them a little piece of mind that everything is OK with the baby.  Oh WAIT, YES I CAN!  When I was pregnant with Shandi, ultrasounds weren't common place yet and I never had one.   Yes, I realize that makes me old.  I believe I've already mentioned that like a thousand times in both pregnancy posts.  

Oh little smart baby... this baby better be a boy, because it kept punching itself in the face during the ultrasound.  Girls do not punch themselves in the face.  When I had my 20 week ultrasound with Jack, he kept putting his foot in his mouth and doing somersaults.  I prayed it would be a boy.  Girls do not suck on their feet.  And girls do not punch themselves in the face.

I was so convinced that something was wrong that I wouldn't let Joe come with me because I didn't want Jack in the room.  So Joe stayed home and watched Jack, and when I got home, Joe told me that it was time to tell Jack.

Me (showing him the picture):  "Do you know what this is?"

Jack:  "Yep.  It's an X-ray"

It took me a second to recover from that, I had no idea my "star pupil" knew what an X-ray was.  Ultrasound, X-ray, close enough for a four year old.

Me:  "Do you know what's in the picture of the X-ray?"

Jack:  "No."

Me:  "It's a baby.  Mom is going to have a baby."

Jack:  "OK."

That was it.  

Justice on the other hand, was sick with worry just like me leading up to the 12 week appointment.  I had to tell Justice about the baby at the 8 week point, because I was so sick.  The poor little guy thought I had cancer and was dying but wasn't telling him.  He burst through the door after school that afternoon and ran into the bedroom (where I was taking a nap) and couldn't wait for me to tell him whether the baby was OK or not.  He cried like crazy when I showed him the picture.  

Jack has since realized that his world is about to come crashing to a halt and be disrupted by this baby, and he is not a happy camper.  Just yesterday he said this during a commercial for a Barbie.

  "I guess if it's a girl baby she's going to want some of THOSE" (rolls eyes, takes a deep breath, shakes his head in utter disgust).

Then about five minutes later...

"Seriously Mom, what are we really going to do with this baby.  It doesn't make any sense."

So, the boys are at opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to how they feel about the baby.  Jack is praying for a boy, Justice for a girl.  Me?  I don't care one way or the other as long as I get a baby on the other end of all this worry.  

I am feeling a little bit better and oh, that's another thing... I expected to hear the magical words of "no more bed rest" from the doctor at that appointment.  And I did.  Sort of.  He told me to take it easy, and NOT to overdo it.  "Half-days" is what he said... and that was OK with me because I really still don't feel like getting out of bed to be quite honest with you.  I can also tell when I've overdone it, because I get crampy.  Crampy is bad when you are pregnant, and if I've gotten to that point then I know I've done too much.  

All in all, things are going well and my nausea gets better every day.  We pray constantly that this little baby will make it into this world, and we have really appreciated those around us that have been praying with us.  It's been a rough 13 weeks.

27 to go.