Torture. All this waiting and not knowing. Every little cramp or faintest hint of mucus with color on the tissue (tmi, but not apologizing) is making me crazy. I’m at the office today so am not at liberty to just collapse into a sobbing heap of frustrated womanhood and thus get some release from the tension and uncertainty that I’m drowning in. That’s what I want to do. Cry. Cry, cry, cry. I’m so on the verge. Maybe that’s good. Incredibly strong urges to sob sob sob must no doubt be hormonal. Hormonal crying. That is good, right? Oh PLEASE, let it be a good thing.
How many forums can I browse through for solace? I have to keep telling myself that there’s little reason to assume anything is anything but normal. All the same. I have nothing definitive to get me through. I’ve not had a scan. I’ve not heard or seen a heartbeat. The only solace I have is that the bbt remains high. There is achiness. There is a sort of crampiness. Tugging. Pulling. It’s not like my cycle cramping, so that’s good, right? Yes, it must be okay. It’s not contractions like the full blown miscarriage cramping. Nothing as horrible as that. (Yet. Dare I say yet? I don’t want to say yet. I don’t want to acknowledge that there is chance for anything but success. All the same, how can I not put that out my head? TORTURE!) Maybe it’s normal cramping and uterine stretching. Maybe? Oh PLEASE be normal. Maybe it’s just gas? Sigh.
What can I count on that’s normal? What will give me solace? Constipation. That’s normal. That’s good. Check. Tender breasts. Nope. Not this time. Should I be worried? I’ve read that follow-ons don’t necessarily have the same breast sensitivities. But some do. Should I worry? Oh, I just don’t know. Nausea? Not really. Fatigue. Oh yes. There is an abundance of that. That’s a good thing, then. That’s a normal thing. Food aversions? Not so far. Not really. Maybe a teensy weensy bit of an aversion to broccoli, my otherwise favorite food, but that could very well be due to the fact the bag that occupies my refrigerator has accidentally been frozen and is now thawed, and simply smells blechy. Broccoli stinks anyway. I can’t call this normal or not normal. Swelling? Definitely I have this, but it’s been hot, and I tend to retain water anyway. Gas? Ugh. I wish I could say it’s new, but it’s a constant with me so how can I tell if it’s more and thus normal? Can’t rule it in or out. Leg cramps. Ah, that’s new, and that’s happened in times past, so maybe I’ll count it as a good thing. Low back pain. Constant. Can’t rule it in or out. Headaches? Again, I live in the land of chronic head, neck, and back pain, so I can’t single anything out as new or normal first trimester discomfort. Insomnia. That’s new. Maybe it’s a good thing. Frequent urination? Not so much. I mean, it’s always been, so I can’t so much tell if it’s more than usual. Metallic taste? Not this time. Morning sickness. Not really. Maybe a couple days here and there of feeling a bit off, but no major nausea. Food cravings? Not so much, although I have had a hankering for a Monte Cristo sandwich these last few days. Enough so that I stocked up on the ingredients, and plan to fulfil the urge this weekend.
There’s just not enough definitive information to give me peace of mind. I did have a health screening today, which came back with relatively good information. Surprisingly, and thankfully, my cholesterol is not high. Not low, but not high. I can be happy about that. My blood pressure is normal. We like to hear that. My pulse was even good. 63 bpm. Not bad for a sedentary desk jockey. My fasting blood sugar was good too (71). BMI and body fat are off the charts though. The nurse consultant said that I’m a very healthy person who is just carrying around a lot of unnecessary extra fat. This would serve me well if I were a bear and had to hibernate, but as such, I am not. What to do, what to do. I eat very well now, now that I’m rigorously following the diabetic guidelines. I walk. I need more vigorous exercise, I guess. That or liposuction. Wouldn’t it be nice to just step out of the fat suit and start over? I’d like that. We get a company discount to 24HourFitness, so I’m forming a me-time plan in the back of my mind. Maybe I’ll join, much as I’ve had a life-long aversion to health clubs, what with the thong clad Barbie dolls and the muscle bound Kens clanging the weights about and preening in the mirrors. So not my scene. Even so, a few miles down the street, a half hour or so away from the husband and the child and the television and the fridge. This might be a very therapeutic thing for me. I actually enjoy weight lifting and exercise machines. I’ll just have to turn up the Zune volume and ignore the Barbie and Ken, and hope that they ignore me back.
Okay. So I’ve blogged myself back out of my near frantic frenzy, and feel like I can make it through another day-tight-compartment, or at least another afternoon-tight-compartment. (Dale Carnegie technique for organizing life and managing stress. Everything’s manageable if you break it into manageable-sized compartments.)
I feel much better now. Thanks.
