I am 8 Weeks today. It's crazy to think I could already be two months into the actual 9 (okay, 10) month pregnancy! My symptoms haven't really changed much over the past week. Still nauseous from time to time, cramping everyday (which I take comfort in believing that this means that things are still growing), and the sore breasts though they haven't been as sore lately which has caused me some worry.
Of course, everything I read and every pregnancy veteran I talk to agrees that the symptoms come and go. "If they lasted all through the 9 months, I don't think we'd make it!" One girlfriend remarked. She has a point. Still, it's disconcerting to feel something one day and not the next.
Yesterday, I went to the doctor for lab work. They took 7 vials of blood to test for all kinds of things. I am someone who doesn't mind needles. More accurately, I do mind needles (I have to close my eyes while they are drawing the blood or else I will get light headed). But, I can tolerate the needles. Whatever it takes to keep my pants on a bit longer, I'm on-board. We all have different pressure points. Others feel the opposite: give me a full body exam before you stick a needle in my arm.
My first U/S isn't for two more weeks, and while everyday that passes without blood is reassuring, it's still hard to get excited without knowing definitively that everything is okay. Still, I try to remain positive.
We spent last weekend with friends and ended up telling them our news. We were in the middle of dinner and I realized that my husband deserved a chance to share his joy with some of his dearest friends. Who was I to take that away. If my best friends had been sitting across the table from us, I probably wouldn't have been able to keep my mouth shut long enough to order my (pitifully non-alcoholic) drink. So, I spilled. My husband was thrilled and his friends were most supportive, though they admitted they had their suspicions when I explained my recent tee-totalling was due to Lent. "The only problem with that is that you aren't Catholic," one of them countered after the beans were spilled. It didn't really occur to me that anyone would be astute enough to pick up on that little tidbit. Episcopalians can give stuff up for Lent too, no?
In retrospect, I'm glad we told them. It did make the weekend a bit easier on me and it gave me a chance to ask the wife some questions about her own pregnancies. We still aren't telling the masses just yet. If something goes wrong now there will be just two phone calls to make. I'd rather keep it that way until we know more.
This weekend we fly to Paris to visit family. I am going to try a different approach with regard to keeping my situation stealth. Instead of announcing my non-alcoholic-status, I'm simply going to not drink. I'll let them pour me a glass of wine here and there and I will take a strategic sip every now and again (I'm confident this will yield no harm), and perhaps I can just fly under the radar that way. We're all staying together in an apartment however, so if I start yakking every five minutes, that might blow my cover. I think that's the hardest part about travelling at this stage - I just don't know how I'm going to be feeling. I have no way to predict if I'll be feeling better - or worse. But, I just have to power through, be strong, eat frequently, and keep my chin up. The U/S day will be here before we know it.
For now, Happy 8 Weeks, little Raspberry!
No comments:
Post a Comment