My Story Monday: A.- The Pregnancy

I’ve written so very much about C’s birth and early years.  You’ve all been brought into my world to experience all the ups and downs of raising a miraculous micropreemie.  I’m sure nearly all of you are also aware by now that I had a baby before her.  My son.  I call him A. on here.  C’s story is so incredible and atypical… you may have believed that A. was just a typical kid up until this point.  He is not.  And his early years were no walk in the park.  I’ve decided to tell you about it…

*****

It took us fifteen months to conceive the first time.  It was both an eternity and the blink of an eye.  We told no one, at my insistence, because I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone looking at me with pity in her eyes.  I was also shocked because my family had never had issues getting pregnant.  And I was in my twenties.  Healthy.  So we said nothing.  I was the cliche… when I stopped thinking about it so much, I got pregnant.  So terrified of being disappointed, I was 9 1/2 weeks pregnant before I even agreed to take a pregnancy test.  And I still thought it’d be negative.

 

It was not.  And we were overjoyed.

 

I had a happy, fairly insignificant pregnancy.  I battled typical morning sickness, but I didn’t let it get me down.  I choked down popsicles for breakfast and let my father-in-law bring me ice chips and a washcloth and murmur, “I know it’s hard, but it’s worth it…”  I already knew that.  So grateful to be pregnant I was, that it never occurred to me to fuss about the sickness.  It wasn’t that big of an issue.

 

Until the day when I was 4 1/2 months pregnant when I just couldn’t stop throwing up.  Chicken broth, saltines, Gatorade, ginger tea… I got sick on everything.  After 48 hours when even ice chips made me vomit, they admitted me to the hospital and diagnosed me with hyperemesis gravidarum.  I received anti-emetics through an IV along with seven liters of fluid.  They let me out when I proved I could keep down a “liquid diet.”  At my next check-up, I had lost eight pounds.  And I hadn’t gained much to start.   As my regular non-maternity pants slipped down my hips, my manager at the bank where I worked pestered me to buy “new, smaller pants”, which seemed insane given the fact that I was five months pregnant!

 

Eventually, the sickness eased and I did gain weight.  By 7 1/2 months pregnant, people occasionally noticed my bump, but they were always shocked beyond belief to learn how soon I was due.  It’s just how I carried.  My height, controlled weight gain, and tight first-time-mommy abs all contributed to it, too.

Blurry, but there I am, less than a month to my due date!

My due date, January 20th, came and went.  I felt great.  I never suffered swelling, water retention, or back pain.  I could stand for hours on end at work with no real ill-effects.  I never once wished for the end to be near.  Yes, I was ready to meet my sweet boy or girl, but I was never “sick of being pregnant!”  I was happy to- finally!- have a nice round baby bump.  I was thrilled to no longer be sick and to enjoy my food.  I did reduce my hours from full-time to part-time after my due date passed but, other than that, I just carried on.

 

I went to the doctor on January 26th and was told that nothing had changed.  They’d see me in a week.  I am grateful to this day that I had an OB who did not even discuss induction until you hit at least 42 weeks.  I think there are far too many inductions happening and, being a first timer, I’m afraid I would have agreed to it had they suggested it.  I didn’t know any better.

 

I requested a chicken burrito from Taco Bell (don’t judge me ;)) and we headed on home.

 

to be cont.

 

 

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