Whenever I get too much going on in my head, I don’t feel like sharing any part of me with the world. I take a break from writing, I try not to make any plans, I stray away from my normal routine, I stop reaching out to talk to other people and I just can’t be myself. It’s like I am holding my breath, but in regards to my whole life.
One of my last posts I talked about catching a break and finally feeling like June was the start of new winds in my sail. Well, that post was May 31st… On June 1st, I found out I am in fact pregnant again. So, cliche as it is, the month we decided to give trying a break is the month it happened for us.
The first ultrasound was better than I had hoped but still not as promising as I would have liked. THERE WAS A HEARTBEAT! The first little baby heartbeat I have ever witnessed. But, then of course the doctor thought it was rather slow and based on my period the embryo isn’t as big as it should be. I should have been around 8 1/2 weeks, but I am only measuring about 6 1/2 weeks. So, instead of getting a gold star and sent on my way with a sense of relief, I have to continue on my path of anxiousness and return again to the doctor this Friday to make sure everything continues to progress.
I found all of this out last week. My symptoms have been getting progressively worse, nausea, headaches and fatigue mostly. Seriously like having a permanent hangover. No matter how unbearable it is becoming I am hoping it is a good sign.
What is hope, though? I would give anything to not get my hopes again. I feel as though the only place hope is going to get me is in the gutters again if this thing doesn’t work out. But, then there is that slight chance that It will all work out and I will feel silly for these anxious thoughts. When we decide the time was right for starting a family, had you told me this is where I would be– I wouldn’t believe you. I didn’t picture myself going through these emotions and bouts of anxiety. Does anyone picture themselves here? I wanted to enjoy pregnancy. I wanted to welcome it with open arms. Yet, here I am for a second time pleading with the universe to get me through this.
This is my reality. I won’t have relief or anymore hope until I see the doctor again on Friday. Even then, if it happens to be good news will I really have any relief until we make it to 12 weeks and it is still going how we want it to? The odds are already better this time and as “they say” in our favor. Please oh please mother universe let me not become hopeless.