Remember last week when I said I might have big news? This isn’t it. This is bigger news. (I have no big news for now, sadly.)
Man, what a rough few weeks it’s been. My anxiety has been through the roof, leaving me feeling like half my normal self. My insomnia has turned chronic, waking me up several times during the night and keeping me up for hours. I have no energy or motivation and all I want to do during the day is nap. My Crohn’s started flaring up particularly bad and I’ve been so nauseated I’ve lost ten pounds. Who am I anymore, I’d wonder to myself, weeping. A few times I thought maybe my disease had taken a turn for the worse. This is it, I thought. I’m dying.
SPOILER ALERT! I am not dying! I’m pregnant!
Anthony and I are ecstatic! With my family background and our infertility struggle we truly thought this would never happen to us again. My anxiety evaporated as soon as I saw those two blue lines. I’m not dying and I am not crazy! I am growing a tiny person. A tiny, wonderful, beautiful person.
We are shocked and surprised and elated by this news. I truly had no idea. About a month or so ago I thought I might be pregnant. I got our hopes (and our families’ hopes) up and it really looked like I might be pregnant. Then it really looked like I wasn’t. I don’t want to go into too much detail, but it seemed pretty final that I wasn’t pregnant and that was so disappointing I put it out of my mind. I guess I put it out of my mind too far because I most likely was pregnant and so I could be two months along at least! We are waiting for some labs to come back from the doctor and then I’ll make my OBGYN appointment. I would certainly sleep more soundly at night if our job situation was different but I am taking a break from freaking out about that to be overjoyed. At least for the moment.
In the meantime I had a terrible weekend. Being pregnant means no more coffee and I had a sizable caffeine addiction. The day I stopped being coffee’s bitch is the day I came down with a multi-day, soul-crushing migraine. Seeing as how I couldn’t take my migraine meds because Imitrex is also verboten while pregnant I have spent the last 72 hours+ moaning on my couch with a rotating succession of ice packs on top of my skull. Basically, my version of hell. Once I’m over this withdrawal period life should get much, much better.
Isobel is just as excited about the new baby as we are. Every morning she’s been kissing me awake and then going over to my belly and kissing it, too. She is ecstatic because there will finally be someone in the house that she will finally, permanently be older than. If the baby is a girl she wants to name is Isobel. If it’s a boy? Dada. Last Friday she spontaneously started singing Happy Birthday to the baby, so I whipped out my phone and asked for an encore. She eats a piece of ice she found on the floor at the end of it, so clearly I only vaguely qualify to be a parent.