Happy proof of life
Hello, dear Flist! I exist! I've been even more quiet than usual on the LJ front for a couple reasons.
The first is the same one that's been going on all year-I'm not actively fannish about much these days. Supernatural hiatus draws to a close, and I just haven't been reading fic or engaging with fandom in a long time. I did find myself overcome by the desire to watch "In My Time of Dying" and "Everybody Loves a Clown" yesterday, and indulged myself. Oh, Season 1 and 2 Winchesters, my love for you is a pure and achy love.
But the second and more intense reason for my radio silence is that I've had this one specific, thing on my brain, like, 95% of the time since early July, and I haven't felt safe talking about it until this week.
I am pregnant again. I'm midway through my 12th week, so I'm almost out of my first trimester and am due on March 8. Everything is going very well this time around, and at my 12 week visit on Tuesday my OB (whom I love dearly already) gave me the all clear to tell anyone I wanted, and you lovely people were high on the list of folks to tell.
So, back in late June I was freaking out because I'd taken my prescribed cycle of Provera (a progesterone) to induce my period, and two weeks after finishing that I still hadn't gotten my period. I started worrying about what they were going to do next and how drastic that might be and decided that since we had actually had sex three times since the last pregnancy test, I should rule it out again. So with absolutely no expectations of anything but a negative result (I assumed that I hadn't been ovulating, since I hadn't had a period in almost eight weeks), I peed on my stick and walked away. Came back and was like, "What the hell? Two lines? What does that mean?" And I looked at the directions, and sure enough-two lines = a positive result.
I called the doctor's office, had a blood test, and they confirmed the next day that I was actually pregnant, but we had little to no idea how far along I was. So we waited a couple of weeks and did an ultrasound to date things, and I was at exactly six weeks.
I can't even express what a relief it is to have gotten past a couple of major hurdles. That first ultrasound was huge for me, even though it just showed a little lima bean shaped blob. I was so afraid that we were going to see a big old nothing again, as we did in December. Even now, every time I go in, I'm sort of afraid there just isn't going to be anything there. But we checked again at 8 weeks, and it had grown tiny little arm and leg stumps, and it continues to grow and develop on schedule, so yay :-)
Last week I had a CVS done, which is a method of chromosomal testing where they take a sample of the placenta tissue and examine the chromosomes for duplicates, gaps, or broken bits. That afternoon we got the all clear on the five chromosomes that cause 99% of chromosomal disorders, and this Tuesday we got a normal report on the other 18 pairs. So that was huge, too. We're still waiting on a couple of blood tests on both me and Marc to see if we're carriers for a few genetic disorders, but the risks of those are quite low and not associated with my age.
Other than the good results, the best part of that procedure was the long, high-resolution ultrasound, which showed an actual baby-shaped baby in there, complete with arms and legs and hands and feet and a super-strong heartbeat. I had another low-res ultrasound as part of my 12 week visit, which was also a follow-up to the CVS (which has a slight risk of associated miscarriage) and the baby was flailing around in there-waving its arms and legs as if it were doing the backstroke.
And now we're entering this phase where it's starting to feel real. It's been really hard to balance being so happy about it and trying to be hopeful and optimistic with trying to manage expectations in case something goes wrong again. Like, we could have found out the sex last week, with the first report from the genetic specialist, but I just couldn't let myself get that much closer to the baby before I knew it was okay. Now we're breathing a lot easier, and actually starting to talk about things like potential names and whether it will be raised a Cubs or a Sox fan and how early Marc can get a guitar into its hands.
Physically, I've had a relatively easy first trimester. I get queasy when I get even the slightest bit hungry, but haven't ever actually thrown up. I have some pretty significant fatigue and can rarely stay awake past 10:30, and my boobs are frankly out of control, but otherwise I feel good. I did almost puke over the side of a kayak last weekend, but I probably should have seen that coming, given the combination of bouncy atmosphere with a two-hour gap since breakfast. But I'm happy to say I made it back to shore with my no-barf record intact. Go team me!
So that's my story.
In other news, my niece arrives Wednesday for a three-week visit, which is her reward for escaping high school with good grades. She starts university in Caen in October. I'm such a cliché, but seriously, I lived with them for a year, starting when she was about 10 months old and ending just before her second birthday. It just does not feel like it was that long ago, and yet here she is, almost 18.
And in related news, OMG we have so much housework to do this weekend!
Okay. Stomach is demanding food by making me feel like I'm going to throw up all over my LJ, so I think I'll go take care of that.
The first is the same one that's been going on all year-I'm not actively fannish about much these days. Supernatural hiatus draws to a close, and I just haven't been reading fic or engaging with fandom in a long time. I did find myself overcome by the desire to watch "In My Time of Dying" and "Everybody Loves a Clown" yesterday, and indulged myself. Oh, Season 1 and 2 Winchesters, my love for you is a pure and achy love.
But the second and more intense reason for my radio silence is that I've had this one specific, thing on my brain, like, 95% of the time since early July, and I haven't felt safe talking about it until this week.
I am pregnant again. I'm midway through my 12th week, so I'm almost out of my first trimester and am due on March 8. Everything is going very well this time around, and at my 12 week visit on Tuesday my OB (whom I love dearly already) gave me the all clear to tell anyone I wanted, and you lovely people were high on the list of folks to tell.
So, back in late June I was freaking out because I'd taken my prescribed cycle of Provera (a progesterone) to induce my period, and two weeks after finishing that I still hadn't gotten my period. I started worrying about what they were going to do next and how drastic that might be and decided that since we had actually had sex three times since the last pregnancy test, I should rule it out again. So with absolutely no expectations of anything but a negative result (I assumed that I hadn't been ovulating, since I hadn't had a period in almost eight weeks), I peed on my stick and walked away. Came back and was like, "What the hell? Two lines? What does that mean?" And I looked at the directions, and sure enough-two lines = a positive result.
I called the doctor's office, had a blood test, and they confirmed the next day that I was actually pregnant, but we had little to no idea how far along I was. So we waited a couple of weeks and did an ultrasound to date things, and I was at exactly six weeks.
I can't even express what a relief it is to have gotten past a couple of major hurdles. That first ultrasound was huge for me, even though it just showed a little lima bean shaped blob. I was so afraid that we were going to see a big old nothing again, as we did in December. Even now, every time I go in, I'm sort of afraid there just isn't going to be anything there. But we checked again at 8 weeks, and it had grown tiny little arm and leg stumps, and it continues to grow and develop on schedule, so yay :-)
Last week I had a CVS done, which is a method of chromosomal testing where they take a sample of the placenta tissue and examine the chromosomes for duplicates, gaps, or broken bits. That afternoon we got the all clear on the five chromosomes that cause 99% of chromosomal disorders, and this Tuesday we got a normal report on the other 18 pairs. So that was huge, too. We're still waiting on a couple of blood tests on both me and Marc to see if we're carriers for a few genetic disorders, but the risks of those are quite low and not associated with my age.
Other than the good results, the best part of that procedure was the long, high-resolution ultrasound, which showed an actual baby-shaped baby in there, complete with arms and legs and hands and feet and a super-strong heartbeat. I had another low-res ultrasound as part of my 12 week visit, which was also a follow-up to the CVS (which has a slight risk of associated miscarriage) and the baby was flailing around in there-waving its arms and legs as if it were doing the backstroke.
And now we're entering this phase where it's starting to feel real. It's been really hard to balance being so happy about it and trying to be hopeful and optimistic with trying to manage expectations in case something goes wrong again. Like, we could have found out the sex last week, with the first report from the genetic specialist, but I just couldn't let myself get that much closer to the baby before I knew it was okay. Now we're breathing a lot easier, and actually starting to talk about things like potential names and whether it will be raised a Cubs or a Sox fan and how early Marc can get a guitar into its hands.
Physically, I've had a relatively easy first trimester. I get queasy when I get even the slightest bit hungry, but haven't ever actually thrown up. I have some pretty significant fatigue and can rarely stay awake past 10:30, and my boobs are frankly out of control, but otherwise I feel good. I did almost puke over the side of a kayak last weekend, but I probably should have seen that coming, given the combination of bouncy atmosphere with a two-hour gap since breakfast. But I'm happy to say I made it back to shore with my no-barf record intact. Go team me!
So that's my story.
In other news, my niece arrives Wednesday for a three-week visit, which is her reward for escaping high school with good grades. She starts university in Caen in October. I'm such a cliché, but seriously, I lived with them for a year, starting when she was about 10 months old and ending just before her second birthday. It just does not feel like it was that long ago, and yet here she is, almost 18.
And in related news, OMG we have so much housework to do this weekend!
Okay. Stomach is demanding food by making me feel like I'm going to throw up all over my LJ, so I think I'll go take care of that.