Better Late Than Never

It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

Part of the reason is that there hasn’t been much news.  The other part is that I’ve had a hard time feeling like it is ok to talk normal things about my pregnancy.  Maybe I’m just a particularly sensitive person, but those posts by other bloggers usually got me right in the gut with the bright cheery discussions of nurseries, etc. that seemed to my wounded infertile mind as if they had forgotten the struggle to get there entirely and those who were still struggling.

Upon reflection, I understood that the part that bugged me was not the details (which frankly, I found interesting), but the posts that read as if they were written by a normal, happy, fertile pregnant lady.  The change always seemed so abrupt as if to say, “I’m cured!”  Meanwhile, I wasn’t.  (Why yes – I do have a problem with envy.)

I’m not cured.  I don’t think I ever will be.  But, I do feel that it is ok for me to share some details.  So, here goes.

If you are in a bad place right now, I’d strongly suggest that you move along.  I understand – trust me. I really, really do. I won’t hold it against you.  Feel free to come back later or block me entirely.  Do whatever you need to do.

I am officially in the third trimester.  That one is still sinking in.  Totally shocking, although at the time, it seemed as if the second trimester dragged somewhat toward the end there.  I look as if I have swallowed a basketball and it certainly feels like that when I bend over, which I am doing less and less.  Mr. X is still amazed at how hard the belly feels.  He continues to press his ear to it and I’ve warned him that one of these days, the kid is going to kick him.  So far, he’s been lucky. Little B gave the OB’s doppler a nice karate chop a few weeks ago.

I did my glucose screening and passed.  I studied very hard.  It means no gestational diabetes and no three hour test (which if I had to do, I was totally going to make a song about to the tune of Gilligan’s Island).

And, lastly – but certainly not least – I think it is high time to share with you just what we’re having.  I could make you guess – after all, you have a 50/50 chance of getting it right, but this is one of those times where I’d much rather just say it.

It’s a little Mr. X.  Yep, a boy – and boy was he not shy about sharing.  As if it wasn’t obvious enough, the amnio did confirm this.  We were not all that surprised, frankly, because there has not been a female born of Mr. X’s patrilineal line since 1932.  And, if it had been a girl, we would have been worried about Turner’s given our prior history. Yet another infertility parting gift.

So, there you have it.  We’re still taking it one day at a time and that is suiting us just fine.

In Due Time

Normally, I’m a planner.  I love to plan.  It gives me a feeling of control where maybe I don’t really have that much control.  But, when it comes to planning for Little B, I panic with a capital P.

This is not a new phenomenon with this pregnancy.  It started right out of the gate when I was debating whether or not to pee on a stick.  As beta day grew closer, I would ask myself, do I want to?  For a few days, the answer was ‘no’.  Then, about three days before beta, I was working and all of a sudden, I wanted to pee on a stick.  As a benefit of working from home, I was able to do it right then and there.  Next was when I would take another test.  Again, I listened to myself and trusted that I would at some point reach a point that I was comfortable to take that next step.

I’ve been listening to myself about these kinds of decisions regarding pregnancy ever since.  I waited until our 15 week check up to shop for maternity clothes – and then only at Target where I would not be completely immersed in pregnancy.  I didn’t hit the big time (Destination Maternity) until around the 20 week mark because I knew that I could not handle it – and even then, it was still overwhelming.

The thing is, as the pregnancy progresses, the bigger decisions are beginning to loom larger.  We’ve been asked multiple times recently if we have begun to think about names (we’re waiting for now).  Closer to home, Mr. X has been gently prodding me to start making some decisions about the nursery.  Not only do I love to plan, I love to decorate and the thought of being able to transform a room that frankly I have really not liked ever since we moved in is intoxicating, except for one small detail.

It’s the nursery.

Most pregnant ladies, especially the first timers, would probably think that I am crazy or mentally ill, or both to be wary.  I prefer cautious.  I’ve already told him that we aren’t buying anything until the baby arrives safe and sound.  He countered with at least picking out things to which I relented.  The thing is, of all of the steps that we have taken so far, creating a nursery is by far the biggest and most permanent.  All I can think is, what if I decorate this room and make it adorable and something happens and I will be forever reminded?  Paint is a lot more permanent than a pair of stretchy maternity pants.

I told Mr. X that I’m just not ready yet to committing to decorating and he understands.  I just hope that I can find a middle ground between my anxiety and need to go cautiously and my growing desire to begin transforming that space into the future.

image: mumchancegaloot