I am 37 weeks pregnant today. Full-term. I have to repeat that to myself because it doesn't quite feel real. This pregnancy has been the craziest ride and so different than my pregnancy with Carter.
Carter was as planned as a baby can be. Not so this time. With this baby, we had intended on not concerning ourselves with birth control or preventing pregnancy (though not "trying" per say) come August/fall -- now, really. Well ya'll know how that worked out given that I'm comparable to a a mid-size car at the moment. Jeff and I aren't idiots - we spent many, many years not getting pregnant, so I can't say this baby was a complete surprise, but he was definitely unexpected. I'm pretty damned knowledgeable about fertility. I know when to get down to business (when you're trying to get knocked up) and when to avoid it like the plague, or how to properly use birth control (when you're trying to avoid getting knocked up) and I have to say, by all logic (and math) I certainly didn't think pregnancy was possible on the night the magic happened. Clearly, my body is about as good at math as my brain. So seeing those two lines on that pregnancy test made me wonder if I was going cross-eyed.
My body had been acting "weird" for a couple of days and, truthfully, I took the test to rule out the possibility that I was pregnant. I remember looking at the test, watching the control line pop up to let me know that the test was working and then slowly squinting as I thought a second line was coming to be. I brought the test close to my face, thinking I was seeing things. I took off my glasses to get the test closer to my actual eyeball. Holy shit, I thought, there's a freaking second line. Out loud, to myself, I think I said, "no way." I called, from our bathroom, to Jeff: "Uh... I think there's a second line here!" He came in to have a look. He smiled. I was scared shitless. To confirm, like a crazy ass, I ran to the drug store to get a "better" test. I took a total of three tests -- yes, three -- and all three were unmistakably telling me that our future involved another baby. February 22, 2014, was a day I will never forget. (There must be something with the number 22 for me because it was April 22, 2011 that I got a positive pregnancy test with Carter.)
Over the next 7 weeks or so, I was so nervous and worried I would miscarry. I didn't feel great. I was very, very crampy, I thought there was no way this pregnancy would end in a baby. At my 12 week prenatal appointment, we heard a heartbeat and I started to let it sink in that this baby was here to stay. Two days later, at 12 weeks and one day, I saw red -- literally -- and was certain that this was the beginning of the miscarriage I had dreaded since I discovered I was pregnant. It was a Sunday night and probably the scariest night of my life. I went to my doctor the next morning and he couldn't find a heartbeat. We discussed how rare it was for this to happen after the 12 week mark and after having heard a heartbeat and then we discussed "options." Jeff and I were both totally devastated and cried for most of the morning while waiting to leave for our ultrasound to confirm what we thought we already knew.
We got to the clinic and walked into that room -- I'm sure -- like we were heading for our last supper. I laid down on the table. Jeff sat in the chair at the end of the bed. Above his head, on the wall, was a tv. I noticed that, unlike other ultrasounds, the technician did not turn it on immediately. She assumed we wouldn't want to see our baby in there without a heartbeat. I was very aware of this omission. I pulled my shirt up, my pants down, and started to cry as she put the wand on my still slightly swollen belly. She immediately said, "Well I'll tell you that I see a heartbeat." I shot up and sputtered, "no you don't!" "Yes," she said, "I do. The baby looks great. I'll just take some measurements and then turn on the tv for you so you can see." I laid back down and looked at Jeff who was as wide-eyed as I was. I kept waiting for bad news: the heart rate isn't where they'd like it? He's measuring 8 weeks, even though we're 12 weeks? But no, the baby looked perfect. I cried and cried and then I cried some more. I couldn't bring myself to peel my eyes off of the tv screen and watched in awe as the baby wiggled around and the heartbeat flickered on the screen. I knew my sobbing was making her job harder than it need to be given that I was inadvertently moving the wand she still had on my belly while I shook from crying.
What caused the bleeding? A low-lying placenta; likely to move as my uterus grew the doctor said, and he was right.
Since then, things have, for the most part, been pretty normal and easy. It took me so long to settle into the pregnancy and embrace the reality of a second baby - not because I wasn't ready, but because I was afraid to allow myself to think it was actually going to happen. I continued to be plagued with a variety of worries that I continually brought up to friends and family: having Braxton Hicks contractions really early on (I'm talking starting 19 weeks) and a lot of pressure made me afraid I would give birth really early; I got paranoid that the anatomy scan would reveal that something was seriously wrong with the baby; the list goes on. I'm sure I drove my friends and family half crazy as I approached them with my newest scare, and probably had them all slightly worried about my stress-levels given the amount I worried.
But here we are. Here I am. 37 weeks pregnant. Overjoyed that the day will soon be here when I will finally see the face of this little person I've been harvesting and worried about for nine months. Soon I will hold him skin-to-skin, nurse him, kiss his little face, smile at his baby grunts, and look at how small his hands and feet are in disbelief that a.) someone can have hands and feet that small and b.) I grew them in my very own body. Soon I will watch Carter lay eyes on him for the first time, not knowing that this boy will one day be one of his best friends and closest allies (I hope!). I will watch Jeff react to his birth and will get to see him love two of our boys in a way that will melt my soul. I will get to introduce him to my parents, brothers, family and friends and watch them love him too.
I rejoice in this day and in the anticipation that it carries. I will spend the next couple of weeks (that long??) wondering if these are the contractions that will mark the start of labour, and waiting for my body to show signs of impending birth. Never again will I be "full-term" in a pregnancy. I cherish these moments, knowing they are all a collection of my lasts and that this kind of anticipation and watchfulness over my own body will never again come to pass.
This weekend is Thanksgiving and I'm thankful for my full-term pregnancy, for my Carter Owen Peters, and for the husband that has brought both of these little fellows into my life. While I'm here though, and if you're STILL reading this, thank you, so much, to those of you who have loved the crazy version of me that has emerged this last nine, worry-filled months. Thank you for trying to talk me off the ledge, watching me cry, and still being excited about the life that is so soon to be. Your support makes this milestone that much sweeter.
Soon, so soon, I will be posting pictures of a newborn baby on here. I'm so ready.
xoxo
Amber
My body had been acting "weird" for a couple of days and, truthfully, I took the test to rule out the possibility that I was pregnant. I remember looking at the test, watching the control line pop up to let me know that the test was working and then slowly squinting as I thought a second line was coming to be. I brought the test close to my face, thinking I was seeing things. I took off my glasses to get the test closer to my actual eyeball. Holy shit, I thought, there's a freaking second line. Out loud, to myself, I think I said, "no way." I called, from our bathroom, to Jeff: "Uh... I think there's a second line here!" He came in to have a look. He smiled. I was scared shitless. To confirm, like a crazy ass, I ran to the drug store to get a "better" test. I took a total of three tests -- yes, three -- and all three were unmistakably telling me that our future involved another baby. February 22, 2014, was a day I will never forget. (There must be something with the number 22 for me because it was April 22, 2011 that I got a positive pregnancy test with Carter.)Over the next 7 weeks or so, I was so nervous and worried I would miscarry. I didn't feel great. I was very, very crampy, I thought there was no way this pregnancy would end in a baby. At my 12 week prenatal appointment, we heard a heartbeat and I started to let it sink in that this baby was here to stay. Two days later, at 12 weeks and one day, I saw red -- literally -- and was certain that this was the beginning of the miscarriage I had dreaded since I discovered I was pregnant. It was a Sunday night and probably the scariest night of my life. I went to my doctor the next morning and he couldn't find a heartbeat. We discussed how rare it was for this to happen after the 12 week mark and after having heard a heartbeat and then we discussed "options." Jeff and I were both totally devastated and cried for most of the morning while waiting to leave for our ultrasound to confirm what we thought we already knew.
We got to the clinic and walked into that room -- I'm sure -- like we were heading for our last supper. I laid down on the table. Jeff sat in the chair at the end of the bed. Above his head, on the wall, was a tv. I noticed that, unlike other ultrasounds, the technician did not turn it on immediately. She assumed we wouldn't want to see our baby in there without a heartbeat. I was very aware of this omission. I pulled my shirt up, my pants down, and started to cry as she put the wand on my still slightly swollen belly. She immediately said, "Well I'll tell you that I see a heartbeat." I shot up and sputtered, "no you don't!" "Yes," she said, "I do. The baby looks great. I'll just take some measurements and then turn on the tv for you so you can see." I laid back down and looked at Jeff who was as wide-eyed as I was. I kept waiting for bad news: the heart rate isn't where they'd like it? He's measuring 8 weeks, even though we're 12 weeks? But no, the baby looked perfect. I cried and cried and then I cried some more. I couldn't bring myself to peel my eyes off of the tv screen and watched in awe as the baby wiggled around and the heartbeat flickered on the screen. I knew my sobbing was making her job harder than it need to be given that I was inadvertently moving the wand she still had on my belly while I shook from crying.
What caused the bleeding? A low-lying placenta; likely to move as my uterus grew the doctor said, and he was right.
Since then, things have, for the most part, been pretty normal and easy. It took me so long to settle into the pregnancy and embrace the reality of a second baby - not because I wasn't ready, but because I was afraid to allow myself to think it was actually going to happen. I continued to be plagued with a variety of worries that I continually brought up to friends and family: having Braxton Hicks contractions really early on (I'm talking starting 19 weeks) and a lot of pressure made me afraid I would give birth really early; I got paranoid that the anatomy scan would reveal that something was seriously wrong with the baby; the list goes on. I'm sure I drove my friends and family half crazy as I approached them with my newest scare, and probably had them all slightly worried about my stress-levels given the amount I worried.
But here we are. Here I am. 37 weeks pregnant. Overjoyed that the day will soon be here when I will finally see the face of this little person I've been harvesting and worried about for nine months. Soon I will hold him skin-to-skin, nurse him, kiss his little face, smile at his baby grunts, and look at how small his hands and feet are in disbelief that a.) someone can have hands and feet that small and b.) I grew them in my very own body. Soon I will watch Carter lay eyes on him for the first time, not knowing that this boy will one day be one of his best friends and closest allies (I hope!). I will watch Jeff react to his birth and will get to see him love two of our boys in a way that will melt my soul. I will get to introduce him to my parents, brothers, family and friends and watch them love him too.
I rejoice in this day and in the anticipation that it carries. I will spend the next couple of weeks (that long??) wondering if these are the contractions that will mark the start of labour, and waiting for my body to show signs of impending birth. Never again will I be "full-term" in a pregnancy. I cherish these moments, knowing they are all a collection of my lasts and that this kind of anticipation and watchfulness over my own body will never again come to pass.
This weekend is Thanksgiving and I'm thankful for my full-term pregnancy, for my Carter Owen Peters, and for the husband that has brought both of these little fellows into my life. While I'm here though, and if you're STILL reading this, thank you, so much, to those of you who have loved the crazy version of me that has emerged this last nine, worry-filled months. Thank you for trying to talk me off the ledge, watching me cry, and still being excited about the life that is so soon to be. Your support makes this milestone that much sweeter.
Soon, so soon, I will be posting pictures of a newborn baby on here. I'm so ready.
xoxo
Amber
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