Optimism

I am so exhausted from all of the emotion of the day that I'm not giving this a proper post here. I will. But things are looking good. We saw arms and legs and fingers and everything we should see, where it should be. The bones aren't calcified enough to show up well, so that will be next time. But from what we could see...everything looks...normal.

Not Looking

The first big ultrasound is today.

I feel completely outside myself today. Work was normal--I was my bright, cheery self. Got everything done that I needed to, and now that I'm home I am getting housework done. (Not at the moment, obviously, but I'll be back to it soon). And I feel like I'm just standing next to this bustling, smiley person.

I feel nothing. Barely even a stab. I can't even really think about it--it's like I get distracted and wander off inside my head.

This first look...we have no idea what we're dealing with yet. None. Daddy and I can't talk about it much. We both have been busy around the house, getting things done (sort of), and there's this vague feeling like we are battening down for a storm. Same kind of cheerful-but-nervous kind of undercurrent like when you pick up bottled water and some extra canned foods when there's a windstorm. (This might not make sense to people who haven't lived on the Oregon Coast, but trust me.) Every now and then I'll say (and it's always me) "if things go bad on Monday, we'll need..." such and such. I think Daddy doesn't like being reminded that things might go bad. He frowns every time.

And on top of it he's been sick all this week--he's at the doctor now. Just a cold that isn't leaving, but he wanted to get checked out in case it's Strep or something. Because we need that to worry about too...

Only a few hours left.

Optional Finger And Toe Expansion Pack

I'm feeling anxious about the new baby today. This is the week that it's fingers and toes should separate, assuming it has any. Next week we'll have another ultrasound--the first one where we play Lets Count The Bones.

I'm terrified.

I don't know why it's upsetting me right now. Especially since fingers and toes are actually the smallest part of our worries. Weird, to live in a world where we consider fingers and toes to be luxuries. Much worse if it's major bones or entire limbs missing. The pelvis. The risk of cleft palate (no one in the family has it, but it is associated with the general disorder). So very many bones that could get lost or stunted along the way...

And I've kept rough track of the baby's development--not like I did with you, though. With you, Daddy and I were excited to read every day what exactly we were growing. I never really spared a thought that something might not grow correctly for you. And as this new baby has gone through its early development, I've tried to...well, I never know what to call it. "Praying" is definitely the wrong word, and "meditating" is still off the mark. Well, whatever you call it, I've done it while the baby is (hopefully) growing arms and legs and all its major parts.

So why the little freak-out about the fingers and toes? Such tiny details...

Every now and then the relentlessly hopeful image of ten fingers and ten toes bounces through my consciousness. I never let it get far. I don't know if it feels like I'd jinx things or that I'd somehow be being ungrateful that thus far this has been a very healthy pregnancy (fetus-wise, that is. Been a bit rough on Mommy). Slaying that thought the instant it arises is the only way I feel "safer." In that hollow, whistling-in-the-graveyard pretend-control way.

I'd say to keep your fingers crossed, but I can't decide if that's heartrendingly optimistic or horrifically dark.

Dead Baby Cooties

I've been having a crying jag today. They don't happen very often anymore. Weeks at a time can go by, and they usually go as fast as they come. At least I had some warning this one was coming. The last big cry was when I showed Daddy the movie An American Tale. At the end, (and yes, Mommy is going to spoil the ending because you're a smart boy and you would figure it out in seconds) when the family is reunited, and they're hugging and crying and Mama Mousekewitz says "Oh my little boy, back from the dead?" Yeah. I kind of lost it. It was over in less than a minute, and then I felt like I'd been in a hit-and-run accident. I actually said "What the hell just happened to me?" to Daddy.

This one was gradual. I had a frustrating day at work--nothing important really, just stupid social stuff that I don't understand. A coworker shooting vile looks at me and snapping at me. She and another gossiping away and doing that kind of over-the-shoulder glances and smirks in my direction. No idea why, but most of the time the social situation there is pretty high-schoolish. And I was feeling irritated about that, because really? We just make coffee, there's no need for this absurd game-playing. And I was thinking about how, when one of them was pregnant (the one who has a baby 2 months younger than you would be) they were all extra-kind to her, going out of their way to ask how she was, etc. I didn't get included in a lot of that, but I shrugged it off as best I could. I'm not popular there, and I don't particularly care most of the time. Besides, she was much sicker than I was.

Now it's extremely awkward with most of them if I make reference to the new pregnancy. I know part of that is because I didn't act all excited when I told them--largely because I was vomiting constantly and generally would say outright "I'll be very excited when I stop barfing." And probably part of it is because I'm not as excited as they think I "should" be. Losing a baby (technically, two) kind of does that--I am cautious. And I don't even know if I can put on a carefree oh-boy-new-baby optimism, nor do I think I should just so that they approve of how I feel about my own fucking children.

I'm rambling about work. I hate it when I do that. But it was really bothering me (as it regularly does). And then said coworker came in, baby in tow, to pick something up. And brought the baby around back, where she was handed around gleefully. I have never felt more unwelcome in a circle. Not only did I not get a chance to hold the baby, if I came near her everyone got tense and weird about it. And when I cooed at her, there was a lot of "oh, you're scaring her, she's going to cry" going on. Because apparently I coo like pure evil. And the baby was whisked away immediately, lest I inflict my DeadBabyCooties all over her, I assume.

I know how bitter I sound. I am bitter. There is a lot of bad blood that I simply don't acknowledge. Because I'm "just here to work" and "do the job as best I can" and never, ever take part in the backstabbing bitchiness that's there. And it hurts to see that baby--see her living and thriving and being cooed over and fussed about and so on and so forth, when I can't even show a picture of you because people think it's "morbid" and "creepy." Their words, mind you. Not that I was offering to show them. Yes, and it was "crazy" that we had a memorial service for you.

Certainly, no one would have considered that about the least pleasant experience to be treated as if I were some kind of leper about the whole thing. Maybe I ought to sew a scarlet letter on my stupid apron. Warn the innocent, that sort of thing.

Anyway. I got home feeling in a funk about the whole thing, and eventually I just put on my Must Cry Now playlist and let it happen. It feels a little better now. I haven't been able to cry like that since I got pregnant again; every time I started to really cry I'd get nauseous and throw up. At least with the meds I can have this release.

I had meant to sit down and write about the back-and-forth feelings I've been having about this new baby and about you, but I guess that isn't really what I wanted to write about after all. I'm sure that will come in time. For now I think I better take my next dose of NoPukePills and have a snack.

Easter

I really miss you today. We don't really celebrate Easter much, but we probably would have if you were here. Instead I'm nauseous and tired and impatient.

I have been sort of curling in on myself these few weeks. I just can't seem to manage being social and talkative. I'm fine with your Daddy, but otherwise I just tend to be more quiet than anyone would expect of me. I'm not writing much either. It just drains me so much to keep up the energy at work I just don't have any left for home right now.