I just KNOW

I just KNOW

On February 13, 2019, I found out I was pregnant. For the third time. So soon. Only 7 months after my second. 

After the wave of shock wore off, we got to work on planning for the new addition. I felt SO pregnant and each bout of nausea, bloating, hunger, and fatigue reminded me that there wasn’t much time.

So we planned for the nursery. Made a list of names. Debated whether we needed to move into a bigger house. Began training our 2.5yr old to start sleeping in his room (vs our bed). And started looking at preschools because, let’s face it, my family wasn’t going to want to watch THREE kids. 

And just when I was getting used to the idea of being a 5-person family, I woke up one day and noticed that the pregnancy symptoms subsided significantly. Somehow, I no longer felt pregnant. 

I had no reason to suspect anything was wrong. I had no bleeding and no cramping. And everything I googled about miscarriages pointed to those two obvious, common, and telling signs. All I knew was that I felt perfectly fine. 

TOO fine. Like I wasn’t hungry as a ravenous wolf anymore. I wasn’t bothered by the smell of that disgusting candle my mom insisted to keep aflame. There wasn’t a constant need to brush my teeth to rid of the nasty metallic taste in my mouth. And my belly, while indeed bigger, didn’t grow any more that I needed new pants to accommodate.

It all sounded crazy. And having gone through two pregnancies before, I knew how much doctors downplay crazy pregnant women worries. So I chose to wait (im)patiently until my first appointment instead of calling my midwife right away. 

When my appointment was canceled and rescheduled three weeks out, I finally decided to call to discuss my worries.  I felt silly telling the midwife that I felt SO GOOD and THAT is why there’s something wrong. And I must’ve been so unconvincing because, after my spiel, she didn’t seem worried at all. All pregnancies are different, she said. Symptoms often disappear between eight to twelve weeks, she said. And I felt defeated.

I KNOW all pregnancies are different. But the gut feeling of BEING pregnant is the same. 

I KNOW how it feels for the symptoms to disappear as you progress in the pregnancy. And to still feel very pregnant despite the lack of morning sickness. 

I KNOW there’s something wrong but if my midwife doesn’t believe me, what can I do?

I found a place that could do something in the meantime and, yesterday, I went for their private ultrasound.  You must be at least six weeks to detect anything, which was fine as I estimate I’m about ten to eleven weeks along. They don’t diagnose or give due date estimates, though. They simply take pictures and send you on your way.

The ultrasound showed a sack. A tiny one. With a very faint heartbeat.  The sack was so small that we couldn’t even see the baby inside.  Based on the size, the lady said I can’t be more than five weeks along. Definitely not ten to eleven. 

How could that be when I took the pregnancy test almost five weeks ago?  And even then, I took the test so late, past two weeks after I missed my period. 

I guess it’s possible that I have the timing wrong. It’s possible that losing symptoms means I lost symptoms and nothing more. And I can and should find comfort in knowing there’s a baby and a heartbeat. 

I’m not looking for comfort though. Just the truth. But for now, I have to settle for the former.

Until there are no gushes of blood or searing pains or cramps.  Until I go for my appointment and someone confirms one way or another, I know nothing for sure. 

The only thing I know is that there is nothing I can do but to wait and see.  And so I wait… two weeks and two days more. 

A good night indeed

A good night indeed

It is 8:30 pm and both of my babies are asleep. This is unheard of in this household so I’m savoring every second… with such stealth in an effort to maintain the peace. 

This has been my dream for some time but I guess I’ve been living in denial (and delusion) that, when it comes to our meals, we can still maintain the same childless lifestyle—dinner out any time we please, anywhere we please. After all, how much harder could it be towing a few extra items/humans to a restaurant?

In an ideal situation, it takes a minimum of one hour just to get out the door. This consists of me pumping for 20 minutes, getting the babies dressed, and checking off the list to make sure the diaper bag is stocked of diapers, wipes, burp cloths, extra clothes, and the breastmilk/bottle/ice pack/hot water combo. And of course, this doesn’t include any of the millions of possibilities which occur more often than I’d like (poopy diapers, tantrums, etc). 

So when I ponder how much harder it is to eat out now vs then, it turns out the answer is VERY. But the good thing is eating out won’t make or break us. In fact, when I made the conscious decision to surrender to this part of mom life, avoiding restaurants has actually had many pleasant by-products that include $$$ savings, less stress, and, for the first time tonight, an earlier bedtime. 

IG vs Real Life

IG vs Real Life

I’m a mama of two and I am one that takes full advantage of the available social media and blogging sites with tips and tricks on how to properly do this mom thing. I follow select pages for parenting tips, meal ideas, fun activities, and even hip outfit suggestions. I don’t know how they ever raised kids without Instagram and Pinterest!

In doing this, however, I’ve become so idealistic to the point that I’ve developed some unrealistic expectations of my babies.

From sleeping patterns to eating habits to potty training… I’ve been inclined to expect picture perfection worthy of a blogger’s IG feed. And this has caused insecurities in my parenting skills. Why isn’t my baby sleeping through the night yet? Why is my toddler still in diapers? Am I bad at this? Maybe I’m breaking them…

I decided to document my musings to help me sort out these thoughts so that, in moments of doubt, I am able to better recognize when it’s real life and when it’s staged for the internet—when I’m being reasonable and when I’m being overly critical of myself as a parent. Hopefully, in doing this, I can sleep a little better at night… you know, all the 2.5 hours of it.