I have a story.
About frustrations.
And learning how to deal with disappointment over the plan not going your way...
Our story begins in January. A cold morning, when I woke up and looked at Cuinn snoring beside me, could hear Aislynn snoring in her bed, and thought of how Lorelei would be stirring any minute. I had a few rare moments to lay in bed, in the quiet, before the chaos of morning with 2 young children began.
When it hit me.
I'm pregnant.
I can't explain it. But I just knew. Just like I "just knew" when I was finally pregnant with Aislynn. And how I "just knew" when I was surprised by Lorelei. I just knew. I won't lie and say I felt all warm and fuzzy, or that I had a sudden feeling wash over me of maternal instinct. Really, it's just a feeling I get. Right in my gut. And the idea just takes hold, grows roots, and ain't going no where.
The girls woke up, Cuinn groaned and said, "your turn", and we started our day. After breakfast had been eaten, and everyone was cleaned, dressed and in the car, we were driving Cuinn to work. This is the moment I distinctly remember.
We had just driven past the movie theater, and were at a red light. There was a moment of silence. I looked at Cuinn, he responded with a tired, "What?" I just looked at him and said, "Pretty sure I'm pregnant."
His face. Oh, his face. I hope I never forget it. A look of pure joy mixed with pure terror.
"No you're not. There's no way you are. It would be IMPOSSIBLE for you to be pregnant. Know what I'm sayin'?"
I just shrugged and said, "Not impossible. Highly unlikely, but not impossible. But I'm telling you. I'm buying a test today."
He shook his head and said, "You're not pregnant. You're not wasting the money. But if you really want to, you can get one from the dollarstore. You're not wasting $25 on a negative test."
Well, I went and bought the dollarstore test later that day. Threw it in my purse and then forgot about it until that night. When Cuinn got home I remembered our conversation and went to the bathroom. Peed in a cup and stuck that stick in the cup. About 3 milliseconds later, that little box showed a little positive sign. I grabbed that thing, with a little bit of cocky attitude and thrust it at Cuinn.
And he just stared at it.
"What does this mean? Are you pregnant? Is that what your saying? I don't understand. Are you sure you did it right? What's happening?"
After the shock wore off a bit, and I explained to Cuinn that I was, in fact, with child. I started thinking about where I was in my cycle and all that gross women stuff and then I was on the phone, calling the dr to get an appointment.
Fast forward to February 10th. My first ultrasound. The one where you have to get it between 13 and 15 weeks. My dr actually thought I was late for it. LATE FOR IT. He had given me an estimated due date of sometime in August. Early August.
I laid on the bed, the ultrasound tech lubed me up and put the thingy on my tummy to check out my baby.
"So, how far along are you dear?"
"Oh, about 15 weeks."
...
"I have 2 pieces of bad news. First, you're only about 7 weeks pregnant. Second, I have to do an internal ultrasound. I'm really sorry."
I need to explain something right here. I know that my babies are gifts from God. I know that they are blessing. I know that being pregnant is a miracle in itself. I know there are thousands, maybe millions, or women who would be BEGGING to be pregnant. I know that fertility issues is a HUGE deal. I know that I really should consider myself lucky to be pregnant.
But knowing all that? Doens't make me like being pregnant any more. In fact, I hate being pregnant. I feel sick, the entire time. My emotions are ridiculous. I mean, even more ridiculous than a regular pregnant woman. Each and every pound I put on makes me want to cry. I am sore. I am tired. I am cranky. I am short so my babies have nowhere to grow but out. In short, pregnancy to me, is akin to a jail sentence. And this woman just added 7 weeks to my time. And I had been hoping for time off for good behavior this time since it'll have to be a planned c section!!!
I walked out of that ultrasound room at the end of it and barely held it together until we got to the car. I started to cry. I was so upset, so frustrated that I was so early. I was embarrassed that I would now have to tell people that, "Oh, actually, I got the dates mixed up, I'm only 7 weeks! ha ha" I was discouraged. I was mad. I was disappointed.
Since then, there have been....issues with the midwives and the hospital and my dr's office. And with their AWFUL communication. (Can I just say, I find it absolutely ridiculous that people who have spent YEARS of their lives training to deal with pregnant women really don't have the first clue when it comes to speaking to each other?) My results weren't sent to the midwives, then it wasn't at the dr office. Then the dr office sent it to the midwives but they didn't get it. Then the hospital didn't have the info. Long story short, nobody knew anything and I still didn't have a due date.
Until today. The light at the end of a frustrating journey just to find out when my baby is coming.
I got a call this morning, at 8 am, informing me of an ultrasound appointment for 1 pm today. Because it was 8 am, and we had all just woken up, I didn't think to ask any important info or anything. All I knew was to be at the hospital for 1 pm.
So I was.
And it was the same wonderful woman (no sarcasm. Serious. I loved her) who gave me the bad news the first time. She remembered me and said, "Hey! How are ya? Still mad at me?"
She lubed me up again, put the thing on my tummy and said, "Well, I have good news this time!! I have a due date for you and you are definitely measuring the same!"
So, after all that, I have a due date. Our baby will be here around September 23. (Probably before since, like I said, it's gotta be a planned section this time)
But let me tell you. This pregnancy is really humbling me. Reminding me, yet again, that when it comes to my life and children and plans? I have no control. I can put things in the calendar. I can plan our days right down to the last minute. I can pretend that I have it all together.
And in the end, it doesn't matter. Because it's outta my hands.
But I'm ok with that. Because my life has turned out pretty amazing so far.
