…sometimes it feels good to feel bad…
- low grade nausea
- fatigue
- aching back and hips
- heartburn
- aching legs
- burning breasts
- leg cramps
I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t want to jinx anything. I’ve been repeating in my mind, like a mantra, over and over and over again. Whatever will be will be. Que sera sera. I’ve been trying, with effort of valiant proportion*, not to worry. Not to obsess. And yet, I can think of almost nothing else. Whatever will be will be. I wasn’t going to say anything. I was trying to wait.
And then I realized that holding back is acknowledging the fear, and I don’t want to be afraid. I’m not broadcasting to my family or in-the-flesh friends, because I’m just not quite ready for that. But to the blog world? This is my journal where I work out the issues of my heart.**
So I say that I don’t want to be afraid, but the simple action of typing out those words has raised them to the forefront of my mind and I realize, as the tears fall from my face, that I am, indeed, terrified. If a day goes by in which I don’t notice symptoms, my heart shudders. Whatever will be will be. Consoling myself. Preparing myself.
I think that things are going better this time. I feel it. I hope so. Oh GOD, I hope so.
I think I am about six weeks along.*** My first appointment isn’t until the 28th, and the first ultrasound probably won’t happen that day, so I have to wait for what feels like an eternity to see that beautiful white heartbeat. I’m praying for that beautiful white heartbeat and the sound of galloping horses.
Lucky Number Seven. This is my seventh pregnancy. I hope it ends well, with the birth of a healthy child.
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*I have my good friend Zoloft, a very helpful friend indeed, to thank for this.
**Narcissistic? A little. Or maybe a lot. But c’mon, it helps me, and I really do cherish the kindness that droppers by share.
***Which puts me right around 12-13 weeks for my trip to Australia. I’m still going. No matter what. I bought the ticket, and it’s non-refundable. I’m going.
