why call it morning sickness

7 weeks

Why do they call it morning sickness when it lasts all day? Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I love having morning/noon/night sickness. It makes me feel actually pregnant and reassures me that somebody in there is making him or herself very comfortable. I welcome it with open arms. I am thrilled to be sick.

But going on with my regular scheduled programing of life has been challenging to say the least. Let's start with work. I don't have an office job. I can't be late. I can't just put my head down on my desk for a minute. And I can't run to the bathroom on a whim. I am a first grade teacher, responsible for 22 wild six-year-olds. And they are relentless.

First graders are smelly, loud, sticky and gross. They zap your energy and are needy of your attention at all times. And they don't leave you alone. Ever.

A few teachers are catching on. I'm ok with it. I simply don't have any energy left over to fake feeling good. If they care enough about me to notice how "not myself" I've been looking, I guess they deserve the truth. So when one of them asks me straight up today if I am pregnant again, I tell her yes.

And it actually feels good to say it.

Tomorrow night is bowling night with the staff. I'm on the social committee that's planned the event. But I just don't know if I can do it. I hate missing it. I missed the last big night out due to my miscarriage. Well at least this time I like my reason a lot better. I'm sure it won't be the first sacrifice I make for this baby.

And in that light, I'm happy to make it.

the most beautiful flicker

I never knew a tiny flickering light could be so beautiful. But it is. This tiny flicker is the new heart beating inside of me. And I am instantly in love.

The baby is measuring right on target. It has a heart rate of 126bpm. My anxiety quickly turns to relief and then to pure happiness as I see the numbers on the screen. I am so grateful I've done my homework. I've studied the subject to ad nauseam (as any OCD pregnant woman would) so I know what numbers to look for and I know these are good ones. My knowledge is my power. And today I am strong.

After the high of my appointment wears off, the anxiety settles back in a bit. We still have a long road ahead of us before we are in the clear. (Are we ever really in the clear?) I am already getting nervous for our next appointment.

So instead of trying to force myself to remain calm, I decide to give myself permission to worry. But here's the deal. I only get 15 minutes of worry time each day. If I find myself worrying before my alloted time, I have to just save it. And once my 15 minutes are up, I am done.

I am also giving myself permission to enjoy this pregnancy -- every nauseous minute of it. I am giving myself permission to feel joy without being a prisoner to my worry.

I know it might not look like much but meet my new love.

1st u/s tomorrow

I will be 6 weeks 3 days. We should be able to see a heartbeat. I am excited, optimistic and very thankful that my husband will be by my side holding my hand.

I definitely feel pregnant now which is a good thing. I feel pretty yucky most of the time and I could sleep forever. My bras no longer fit and the thought of chicken absolutely repulses me. I can't get enough orange juice and I almost broke down in the grocery store today when I couldn't find any clementines. Oh and we went to see Juno today and I cried just about the whole time. I take all of these things as very good signs.

Here's another thing. Yesterday we take a trip to meet Jack, my good friend's new baby. (She, by the way, is doing much better.) I hold Jack for a while and there is no anxiety. Just peacefulness. He is beautiful and you can't not fall in love with him. He is lying in my arms, across my belly, warm with life. And I can feel him connecting with the life inside of me. Our babies will be 8 months apart.

Tomorrow will be a big milestone for us. Last time our baby stopped growing at 6 weeks. We never got to see a heartrate above 78. I am trying to put my fear aside and expect only good things tomorrow. But I can't help remembering what the first ultra-sound was like last time. It was traumatic. I wish I could set it aside. But that experience is part of who I am now.

Tomorrow's experience will add a whole new layer to who I am. And I am hopeful for a good, happy layer.

the beauty of gagging

6 weeks

An amazing thing happens today. I gag.

Most people wouldn't get so excited about gagging. But me, I am very excited. In my last pregnancy, the idea of morning sickness terrifies me. I hate feeling nauseous. Who doesn't? But this time around, I welcome any signs of healthy pregnancy with open arms, and I literally want to jump for joy with the thought of it.

First graders can be gross. They pick their noses and stick their hands in their pants. They have sticky fingers, bad gas and drippy colds. Sometimes they even puke. But in my ten years of teaching, today is my first real gag.

So yesterday, Lily spills her yogurt on the table during snack time. I give her some wet wipes and paper towels and she cleans it up. Or so I think. Today another little girls tells me she doesn't think Lily got it all. She brings me the plastic crayon bin from the table and the smell hits me first. The crayons are swimming in a lumpy, gooey, day-old puddle of white yogurt.

GAG!!!! The reflex is so fast and furious, I think I scare the little girl. I immediately scan the classroom for the trash can. I am sick! I tell her to dump everything out. Crayons, scissors, pencils, erasers -- everything covered in the smelly white goo. I can't even look. Luckily she is a saint and scrubs the whole bin with soap until all traces of yogurt are gone.

But the nausea is still there. I am so delighted over my new-found pukiness, I decide to reward every table with new fresh crayons.

Call me crazy but I hope I gag again tomorrow.

believe in miracles but don't depend on them

My husband and I spend a weekend away at a Bed & Breakfast in Vermont. It is exactly what we need. We spend a sunny afternoon snowshoeing in the woods. We take a nap with the fireplace going two days in a row. We are treated to hot home-cooked meals. And dessert too. We eat warm cookies right out of the cookie jar. I skip out on skiing but I get to see some old friends while my husband hits the mountain. Though the thermometer is registering single digit temperatures, I am nothing but cozy. It is a perfect weekend.

In the bathroom is a poster listing life's simple pleasures. It lists things like kiss slowly and read a children's book. But there is one that really resonates deep within me.

Believe in miracles but don't depend on them.

I could have used this advice (both ends of it) with my last pregnancy. I remember reading stories -- tears streaming down my face -- of women who had miscarried, feeling strangely envious of their strength. I knew I could never survive that. I was sure of it. Only a few weeks pregnant and already my survival depended on this baby. I knew I would lay down and die if I lost it.

Of course I didn't lay down and die, though. But I felt broken in a way I had never felt before. And when the doctors gave us a 50/50 chance I didn't believe in a miracle either. I gave up. (And I'm not proud of that.)

So here I am two and a half months later -- sitting on a toilet in a B&B in the mountains -- and it clicks. I am carrying a new miracle inside of me. And I believe in it.

I believe it will all work out this time. I believe its little heart will beat strong and it will keep growing bigger. I believe we will actually bring a beautiful healthy baby into the world come September. I believe whole-heartedly in our miracle.

I believe in it but I will not depend on it.

My sense of self and my peace with life and my relationship with my husband will not depend on this baby. I am strong and sturdy. Our marriage is strong and sturdy and it stands on its own. It didn't fall down before and it won't fall down again. I won't fall down either. A baby will bring us more joy than we've ever known and add to who we are in ways I can't even begin to imagine.

But I won't depend on this baby to make me. I am already whole.

5 weeks

I pass a small milestone today. My results from my 3rd blood test come in. The nurse actually congratulates me on the phone. It is one notch more official -- I am really really truly pregnant!

12DPO -- 31
14DPO -- 77
21DPO (today) -- 4500
Progesterone is up from 17 to 37

My husband and I are off for our romantic ski weekend in VT, in which I will not be skiing (or drinking wine for that matter!) I think we'll sip grape juice by the fire and celebrate!

I think I am finally ready to start enjoying this pregnancy.

trauma in babyville

It's been a traumatic week in babyville. Two of my best friends had babies this week. Michelle, my friend from childhood, lives now in London with her husband. She delivered a baby girl named Zoey Ruth by c-section, six weeks early. My college friend, Megan, gave birth vaginally right here in MA to a 9lb baby boy, John Michael. (Jack) I will post a picture of Jack as soon as I get one. Both babies are healthy and perfect. Their mothers have some healing to do. These two women are connected both by me...and now by their horrific birth stories.

I will spare you the gory details but I will tell you this. There was blood. And lots of it. So much so that they both needed transfusions. They both almost died. They ended up in ICU and didn't even meet their babies until the next day.

Megan told me a few weeks ago that she was scared to death of childbirth. I told her to think of all the millions women who have done it before her. I told her she would be fine.

Only she wasn't fine. She nearly died. And the day that was meant to be the best one of her life turned out also to be the worst. I hate this for her.

And I can't stop thinking about it. I close my eyes and I see all the blood. I imagine the screaming. The pain. The panic. The terror on my friends' faces. I think about their husbands watching helplessly more scared than they've ever been. It raises the hair on my arms. It turns my stomach.

I am terrified of childbirth. I am terrified of being ripped in half. I am terrified of this scene I can't now get out of my head.

And I am terrified of miscarrying again. I am terrified to get my blood test results tomorrow. Terrified for my 1st ultra-sound. Terrified we won't see a heartbeat. Terrified of having to start all over again.

To sum things up, I am terrified of everything it seems. And just praying that my friends heal quickly.