16 Weeks
Oh man, I just made a typo in the title of this post. I wish it were 26 weeks.
But it's just 16. And this has been something of a strange week, one that reminded me of what it means to be a pregnant infertile. I found out this week that one of my best friends is pregnant. Not just pregnant, but exactly as pregnant as I am. Like, the same due date pregnant. And how did that make me feel? Because I am a freak, it made me stressed, upset, and angry. First of all, I was upset when she told me had been reluctant to tell me about her pregnancy because of all my miscarriages. This upset me even though I am equally pregnant and hadn't told her about mine, either, so I really am a hypocrite. But even beyond that, I couldn't stop thinking about how horrible it would be if she made it and I didn't. Because it really is all about ME. Freakish me.
I am feeling much better now, and happy for her news, and pretty sheepish over what a tizzy it threw me into. But at the same time, it just reminds me: like all manifestations of infertility, recurrent miscarriages really fuck with your head. You don't just get over that. Or at least, I don't.
* * *
And now, a story about my day, in which I learned an important lesson.
Although today was both amazingly good and amazingly bad, the most important part was the good part. Short appointment this morning with Dr. Cool to pick up my paperwork for the Quad Screen. She took the opportunity to let me ask questions about my headaches, stress, and indigestion. She recommended such things as The Artist's Way (which people have been telling me to read since I was in grad school ten years ago, and I still haven't), exercise, and cold Maalox.
Then she listened to the heartbeat, and I was unperturbed when she couldn't find it at first, because I had just heard it an hour before on my doppler at home. She picked it up pretty quickly though, and I love to hear it. It sounds different on her machine than it does on mine. Sharper and more distinct.
She didn't harrass me about my shoes this time because I wore walking shoes to the appointment.* Of course, what she didn't know was that out in the car I had my same black sandals that she had chastised me for wearing the last time. I didn't want to get fussed at, but I also didn't want to look dorky all day long, either. Shows what I know. Read and learn, folks. I should never disregard the advice of Dr. Cool.
I got to work and changed into my sandals in the car, then headed inside to have one of the worst days I've had since I started working there. It was really just one nightmare after another. I won't go into details, just be grateful for that.
I needed to leave early to make it to the lab for my blood draw, and I meant to leave at 3:30 but things were so crazy I didn't leave the building until 4. I started having a bad feeling as I was walking to my car, when I couldn't find my car keys in my purse. I just couldn't have locked my keys in the car. Not when my husband (the only other person with a key to my car) is down in Georgia, and I need to make it to the lab an hour away in time to wait and get stuck before they close at 6.
But of course, I had locked my keys in the car. Luckily for me, I had also left my windows a little open. Why? Because my walking shoes were in the front floorboard, and I figured it might be kind of stuffy in there this afternoon if those shoes didn't have a little breathing room. Thank goodness I was able to reach in the window and unlock the passenger side door. But then... then. I tried to unlock the other doors with the automatic lock button, and nothing happened.
Yes, people, my battery was dead. D-E-D. In the process of changing my shoes before getting out of the car this morning, I had left my keys in the ignition and the lights on. That is what vanity will do to you. And despite the fact that at least 100 people must have walked by my car this morning (in a dark parking garage), nobody had reported it to security. Or, if it was reported, security hadn't called me.
Surprisingly, things took a turn for the better then. I was going to call AAA, but a company security guard came and jumped me off. Then I drove like crazy back home, and made it to the lab in 45 minutes. There was only a ten minute wait, and they didn't even have to stick me twice. Plus they only took one vial of blood!
Still, next time I won't try to trick Dr. Cool. It just ain't worth it.
*Last time I posted about the ugly shoes, someone asked why it was important to wear shoes with good support around the heel. Dr. Cool said it was to keep you from twisting your ankle because your ligaments are so loose.
But it's just 16. And this has been something of a strange week, one that reminded me of what it means to be a pregnant infertile. I found out this week that one of my best friends is pregnant. Not just pregnant, but exactly as pregnant as I am. Like, the same due date pregnant. And how did that make me feel? Because I am a freak, it made me stressed, upset, and angry. First of all, I was upset when she told me had been reluctant to tell me about her pregnancy because of all my miscarriages. This upset me even though I am equally pregnant and hadn't told her about mine, either, so I really am a hypocrite. But even beyond that, I couldn't stop thinking about how horrible it would be if she made it and I didn't. Because it really is all about ME. Freakish me.
I am feeling much better now, and happy for her news, and pretty sheepish over what a tizzy it threw me into. But at the same time, it just reminds me: like all manifestations of infertility, recurrent miscarriages really fuck with your head. You don't just get over that. Or at least, I don't.
And now, a story about my day, in which I learned an important lesson.
Although today was both amazingly good and amazingly bad, the most important part was the good part. Short appointment this morning with Dr. Cool to pick up my paperwork for the Quad Screen. She took the opportunity to let me ask questions about my headaches, stress, and indigestion. She recommended such things as The Artist's Way (which people have been telling me to read since I was in grad school ten years ago, and I still haven't), exercise, and cold Maalox.
Then she listened to the heartbeat, and I was unperturbed when she couldn't find it at first, because I had just heard it an hour before on my doppler at home. She picked it up pretty quickly though, and I love to hear it. It sounds different on her machine than it does on mine. Sharper and more distinct.
She didn't harrass me about my shoes this time because I wore walking shoes to the appointment.* Of course, what she didn't know was that out in the car I had my same black sandals that she had chastised me for wearing the last time. I didn't want to get fussed at, but I also didn't want to look dorky all day long, either. Shows what I know. Read and learn, folks. I should never disregard the advice of Dr. Cool.
I got to work and changed into my sandals in the car, then headed inside to have one of the worst days I've had since I started working there. It was really just one nightmare after another. I won't go into details, just be grateful for that.
I needed to leave early to make it to the lab for my blood draw, and I meant to leave at 3:30 but things were so crazy I didn't leave the building until 4. I started having a bad feeling as I was walking to my car, when I couldn't find my car keys in my purse. I just couldn't have locked my keys in the car. Not when my husband (the only other person with a key to my car) is down in Georgia, and I need to make it to the lab an hour away in time to wait and get stuck before they close at 6.
But of course, I had locked my keys in the car. Luckily for me, I had also left my windows a little open. Why? Because my walking shoes were in the front floorboard, and I figured it might be kind of stuffy in there this afternoon if those shoes didn't have a little breathing room. Thank goodness I was able to reach in the window and unlock the passenger side door. But then... then. I tried to unlock the other doors with the automatic lock button, and nothing happened.
Yes, people, my battery was dead. D-E-D. In the process of changing my shoes before getting out of the car this morning, I had left my keys in the ignition and the lights on. That is what vanity will do to you. And despite the fact that at least 100 people must have walked by my car this morning (in a dark parking garage), nobody had reported it to security. Or, if it was reported, security hadn't called me.
Surprisingly, things took a turn for the better then. I was going to call AAA, but a company security guard came and jumped me off. Then I drove like crazy back home, and made it to the lab in 45 minutes. There was only a ten minute wait, and they didn't even have to stick me twice. Plus they only took one vial of blood!
Still, next time I won't try to trick Dr. Cool. It just ain't worth it.
*Last time I posted about the ugly shoes, someone asked why it was important to wear shoes with good support around the heel. Dr. Cool said it was to keep you from twisting your ankle because your ligaments are so loose.
5 Comments:
Your ordeal made me groan out loud.
The things we do for the love of shoes.
By
Anonymous, at 8:55 PM
Good God - what a day! Sorry for the trauma, but you know - a girl and her shoes!
By
Anonymous, at 9:21 PM
What a pain in the ass day! At least it's over. About the fertile friend's pregnancy...it's one of those involuntary reactions we all have. Can't be helped. Don't be hard on yourself for how you felt.
By
Anonymous, at 8:05 AM
16 weeks!!! That is fantastic! Keep on growing, little bean!
By
Wendy Orrison and Holly Snyder, at 4:17 PM
Oh my god Susie - what an ordeal...all over the sandals! As for your friend's pregnancy and how it made you feel, I'm so with you. A couple we had known for the longest time had married just 4 months prior to announcing their pregnancy...her due date was a few weeks before mine and it for whatever reason really pissed me off. We too had been previously left out of the loop with a few pregnancies because people had been "afraid to tell us" and that just sends me over the edge. Like you said, it fucks with your head.
By
Anonymous, at 8:57 AM
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