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A glimpse into the brain of a writer-momma-nerd.

The Gestation of Nicholas, Part II

Posted by nattya61 on February 25, 2010

The day we found out I was pregnant was the same day we went and saw X-Files: I Want to Believe, July 25, 2008. I always thought that was very fitting. It is definitely a way for me to always remember the day I found out I was pregnant.

I called the doctor and they gave me an appointment for the bloodwork to confirm the pregnancy and whatever else they test for. They gave me an appointment earlier than most newly pregnant women because I was “high risk.” I went in, the vampires took what felt like half my blood supply, and the next day they called, confirming that yep, surprise, I’m pregnant. Bryan and I had so much to figure out: finances, work schedules, daycare, living arrangements (we were in a one bedroom apartment at the time), stuff for the baby, when to tell everyone. It was crazy. Exciting, but crazy. I had always pictured myself having a baby at 32. I almost felt too young to have a baby at 28. I was so happy to be pregnant, especially since I never thought it would happen, but I was honestly terrified as well. I mean, I’d only been married three months. Being a wife was a new concept. Hell, I hadn’t even really had much time to get used to being a girlfriend before that. Everything was changing. Fast.

Then, the beginning of September we went to Salem to my cousin Jason’s wedding. That same day was my 10th year high school reunion. We went to the wedding. I started cramping. Then, I started spotting. I think Bryan and I both realized right then and there that no matter how fast our lives were changing and how complicated things were going to become, that we wanted this baby more than anything in the world. The thought of miscarrying was more terrifying than any other complications having a baby would bring. We went home, I put my feet up, missed my 10 year reunion, and cried.

That Monday the doctor got us in right away. They did an internal ultrasound (talk about feeling like your being probed on a spaceship…I mean, your in a dark room, on a table with your feet up, and they bring out this thing:

Gah!

Yeah. Anyway, there he is (well, at the time we thought “she”). Strong little heartbeat and a little bean, growing away. They had no idea why I had spotted that Saturday.

Bean

Everything went well. We were getting things figured out, morning sickness was kicking my ass (the only section in the grocery store that didn’t make me gag was the frozen foods), and I was tired as could be. Then more spotting. This time, a lot. I thought I passed the baby. It was bad. There was more crying, another appointment with the probe was made, and there was the baby, again strong as could be. The doctor said I might have a “sensitive cervix” and told me no strenuous activity, including no newlywed activities, until I was at least 32 weeks along!

We abided by her rules. I did not need the stress of spotting like that again. By the second trimester the spotting slowed way down. I could relax.

November 18, 2008. Gallbladder attack #1. Again, I thought I was miscarrying. This time it was because of the pain. Extreme pain! We went to the emergency room. They told me I had gas and sent me home. Gas! Frickin gas! I knew darn well this was not gas. Gas does not feel like that, pregnant or not. (And with pregnancy comes a lot of gas…I’m just sayin’.) I went to my doctor as soon as she could see me, and she said, “Nope,  you have gallstones. It happens during a lot of pregnancies, especially if  you’re white, big, and was on the pill for a long time before you got pregnant.” Great! Just what I needed! They couldn’t do surgery until after I had the baby because I was too far along. Yeah, I cussed. A lot.

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